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thedreamsmith · 2 years

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Forged in Dragonfire (Otherwise known as How to Train Your Targaryen)

** UPDATED***

Part 2 is now up

This is truly self-indulgent, self-insert nonsense. It will get smutty. (Feel free to give feedback or suggestions for a title!)

Aemond’s attention is caught by a noble lady with an unusual hobby. Lady Edeline is nothing like anyone he has ever met.

Autumn had come to King’s Landing, the bite in the morning air suppressing the dry heat of the usually arid coastal city-state. The forge, however, was sweltering; the fires banked and glowing since long before the sun had risen.

With the forge belching heat at her back, sweat trickled down her spine as Edeline worked the dagger over the rough surface of the grindstone. Regardless of birth or status, to Jon she was an apprentice, and that meant sharpening the stack of weaponry dropped off by the gold-cloaks that morning.

Despite the early hour, the Street of Steel was alive with the strike of metal on metal, although few customers would make their way to the smithies and farriers lining the cobblestones for hours yet. Which was why Edeline didn’t pay mind to the shuffle of boots on stone as a hooded figure ducked into the thatched shelter that made up the shopfront of Jon’s forge.

‘We’re not open yet, come back at eight bells.’ Her words were a throaty rasp, roughened by the smoke and punctuated by the rhythmic scrape of steel on stone.

The voice that replied to her was not one that she had heard before but was nonetheless unmistakable in its cadence and diction. A voice used to being obeyed; more suited to battlefields and lyrical High Valyrian than echoing in an empty, soot-blackened street.

‘I understand. However, I was seeking to avoid the…crowds that come later in the day.’

The younger son of House Targaryen was shrouded in the deep shadows of his hood, the distinctive white hair of his kin tucked neatly away. His narrow face was not one that she had ever had cause to study up close, nor he hers. An unexpected blessing in her current circumstances.

A bowed head, a deep curtsy; deference that he would expect, that he wouldn’t question, that wouldn’t draw undue notice. This was what her mother feared; the attention of a dragon could be a terrible thing for those who could not control them.

‘The smith is not here, your highness. I am but his apprentice.’ She kept her gaze fixed on the fastening of his cloak.

‘Then you are the one I am looking for.’ She inhaled sharply, her eyes flicking up of their own volition. The young prince’s gaze was no less piercing for his lack of a left eye. Indeed, it speared her with an intensity that surprised her – the few nobility who had visited the forge over the years seldom paid her much mind, even when speaking to her directly. Their attention was often focused somewhere into the middle distance, on more important matters than the smallfolk before them. The prince seemed to take her silence as a que to elaborate.

‘I faced Ser Merryn in the training yard some days ago. The man himself is of little skill or interest, but his weapon was of unusually high calibre for a knight of otherwise unexceptional standing. Upon questioning, he divulged that it had been forged by a smith’s apprentice in the city proper.’

In truth, Jon had only allowed her to forge the knight’s blade without his direct oversight as he himself had been commissioned by a patron of higher station and simply did not have the time to work on another piece. The aging smith had been in service to her family since before her birth, and by all accounts was a fair and skilled mentor. But still, would he allow her to accept a commission from one of the most important and dangerous men in the kingdom?

‘Your skills will be rewarded, I assure you.’ Prince Aemond tossed a purse from inside his cloak, the coins within clinking merrily as it landed heavily atop the workbench. ‘Half now, and half once the sword is finished.’

Edeline reached for the purse, loosening the strings to peer within. Gold and silver glinted in the firelight; stags studded with King Jaehaerys’ dragon-rampant. She swallowed thickly, to anyone but a prince…

‘This is too much.’ Did the prince not know the value of his own currency? Or had he simply never had to pay for goods before?

‘I have seen your work, my goodwoman, and consider this a fair price for weapons of such quality.’

‘I am honoured, your highness.’ She sank into another curtsy. To be chosen for this task, by a man who had undoubtedly had cause to train with Valyrian steel… An honour indeed. ‘What kind of sword would you have me make?’

‘A bastard sword. Do not trouble yourself with ornamentation, I value practicality over adornments.’ Edeline had no trouble believing that, beneath his cloak, the prince was dressed in fine but plain black leather. Practicality over adornment indeed. If only all lords shared such sentiments. Although, she supposed, if that were the case then many blacksmiths would be out of a job, if no one required fanciful tourney armour or ornamental daggers more suited to displaying around a lady’s neck than sticking one’s enemies with. ‘When can I expect it to be ready?’

Jon could hardly fault her for falling behind on her usual tasks when she had such an important contract to complete, but even so…

‘Return here in seven days’ time. You will be able to see the progress I have made for yourself and make any changes as required.’ For what he was paying, she would accommodate any number of eccentricities or last-minute modifications. ‘If it pleases your highness.’ She added hurriedly.

Fortunately, Prince Aemond did not seem to take offence with her presumptuousness.

‘Very well. I bid you good day. Until next we meet.’ The prince bent at the waist in a shallow bow before striding away, his boots kicking up clouds of dust and metal filings as he moved between the stalls. Within seconds his retreating figure was lost in the already-growing crowds making their way from the residential districts of the city, for work or pleasure alike.

Edeline let out a long breath as she slumped against the workbench, the fire-warmed wood pressing against her backside, heedless of the marks it was leaving upon her breaches. At any other time, her mother would be delighted that she had made the acquaintance of a prince, but in this case…

With a groan, she gathered up the prince’s coin purse and stashed it inside the workshop. Only then did she return to the task of the daggers. There would be time aplenty to purchase the materials for the prince’s sword once Jon arrived at the forge.

~~~~~~

With her mother residing outside the city for much of the year, Edeline had little cause to visit the Red Keep. Her father was often content to attend to matters of business from the family’s residence near the base of Visenya’s hill. However, with the news of Princess Rhaenyra’s latest pregnancy, King Viserys had announced a week of celebrations for smallfolk and nobility alike.

As such, even the Lesser houses were invited to attend a succession of feasts and tourneys to be hosted within the Keep.

Edeline accepted a goblet of sweet wine from a passing servant, before steeping smoothly around a knot of middle-aged lords from the Riverlands. She had only just managed to escape her mother’s clutches, a bevy of dim-witted lordlings in tow - all tempted with the promise of her hand. Her father and brother had taken one look at the Lady Farring on the warpath and made themselves scarce, presumably somewhere near the refreshments. Lords Jakob Farring, junior and senior, were kind men, however both shared a healthy fear of their house matriarch. Her sisters were both abed with child, and as such were excused from the festivities.

At least one of the Seven was looking upon her with favour, as the King’s second son was nowhere to be seen at this particular gala, although his older brother was in attendance. Prince Aegon II lounged at the high table, already deep in his cups despite the youth of the evening. All women, both nobility and servants alike knew to keep their distance from the young prince whenever possible. His exploits in the brothels of King’s Landing were talked about in hushed tones over market stalls and high tea both.

The evening wore on as Edeline moved between knots of Westerosi nobility. For all her distain of her mother’s attempts to ensnare her into marriage, it was a delight to see her friends once more. Many of her girlhood acquaintances had since moved away from the crownlands with their respective husbands, but she was thrilled to discover that some of their past traits remained. The former Lady Darke, for instance, still had an unaccountable love for exotic birds, and told her excitedly all about the great glass aviary that her lord husband had built for her in their country estate.

She was in the midst of an enthusiastic story about a flock of parrots from Pentos, when Edeline happened to glance over her shoulder to the high table. Prince Aegon was no longer the only man beside Queen Alicent. His attire was no different from that which he had worm on the Street of Steel, but even so the younger prince was an unmistakable presence beside his petite mother. His expression was unreadable as he scanned the room, his ramrod straight posture a sharp contrast to the way his elder brother lounged carelessly in his seat to his right.

‘Eddie, are you quite alright? You look positively ghastly.’ Her friend had paused mid-sentence and was gazing at her with furrowed brows.

Edeline managed a weak smile, and a lack-lustre excuse that she immediately forgot as she stepped into the throng of lords and ladies making their way towards the dance floor. A blandly handsome young lord led her into a lively number popular in the Vale, although she barely remembered the steps. She was more concerned about ensuring her back remained facing the high table than the poorly-disguised grimace her partner wore as he tried to avoid her clumsy feet.

The dance came to a close with spirited applause from the watching crowd, but she did not dare glance over her shoulder to see if the prince had moved from his place beside his mother. The dancefloor was crowded, and her deep purple gown was a far cry from the stained breeches she wore whilst working at the smithy. Dark hair washed and styled into the braids made so popular by the Targaryen ladies; satin and lace cut skilfully to disguise the broadness of her shoulders and emphasise the width of her hips. There was little chance that the prince would recognise her as the apprentice he had spoken to just days ago.

She allowed herself to relax into the regrettably clammy embrace of her dance partner when the young man suddenly stiffened beneath her hands. His mouse-brown eyes went wide as they focused on something behind her.

‘May I cut in?’ Her partner’s damp hands were swiftly replaced with ones far drier and surer as the lordling made a swift exit, likely hastened by her poor dancing skills and the formidable presence of the prince now guiding her into the next dance.

‘And what might a lady such as yourself have been doing working as a smith’s apprentice in the steel quarter, hmm?’ As tall as she was, this close, Edeline had to tilt her chin to meet the gaze of the pale prince. Her throat closed over, panic blooming in her breast as she scrambled for an explanation that might not end with her disgraced before the entire court.

‘I do not know what you are-‘

‘Do not lie to me, my lady.’ The words were a breath against her ear as Aemond guided her into a slow turn. ‘I see more with one eye than most men see with two.’ Her gaze flickered to the couples dancing closest to them, judging the distance against the volume of the minstrels’ song. The motion did not escape the young prince’s notice. ‘Fear not, I have no intention of revealing your secret.’

Edeline raised her eyes to her dance partner once more, expecting to see a smirk upon his lips but finding none. The prince’s expression was solemn. He was not lying – for her he would keep this secret, although she could not fathom why, or to what end.

‘Although I must confess, I am intrigued as to how you convinced your lady mother to allow you to work as a smith’s apprentice.’ The dance led them to part for a moment, at arm’s length as they clasped hands. She waited until they were once more chest-to-chest before answering.

‘My elder brother is my father’s heir, and my sisters have married above their station and provided my parents with grandchildren. As the youngest daughter of my house, I have had more freedom than most ladies of my age and rank. So long as I keep the two halves of my life separate, and do not bring shame upon my family, my father is content to let me spend my days as I wish.’

‘And your wish is to toil amid flames and metal?’

‘Do you not do the same as you train with your sword and your dragon, your highness?’ She stumbled on the backstep, but corrected quickly, and tried and failed to ignore the way the prince’s hand tightened on her waist. ‘I enjoy the act of creation – forging the ore into something new and deadly.’

‘And what will your husband say when he removes your gloves and sees the burns and callouses beneath?’ Anger sparked in her chest but was quickly doused as she noted the amusement in his eye. The somber, stoic prince was…teasing her?

‘Then he shall have an exceptionally clumsy wife, with callouses from whiling away the hours playing the harpsichord.’ Edeline raised her chin, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

‘In that case, I would advise spending less time playing the harp, and more time practicing your dancing, my lady. Your footwork is in dire need of improvement.’

Her mouth dropped open in outrage before she quickly remembered herself and her surroundings, her mother would have conniptions if she saw her gaping like a landed trout at the Targaryen prince.

‘As do your attempts at charm, your highness.’ She hissed, punctuating the statement with a deliberate press of her heel against the soft leather of his shoes.

‘Assaulting a prince is grounds for execution, you know.’ There was a smirk on his lips, but still her breath caught. Had she been away from court so long that all her manners had fled her? She began to stammer an apology when the prince cut her off. ‘Worry not, I have no taste for executing young ladies. Besides, I wouldn’t get my sword if I did, would I?’

The prince raised one pale eyebrow, assessing, waiting. A test of sorts, that much she was certain of.

‘If your highness wishes, he may use his new sword to part my head from my shoulders himself.’ Prince Aemond’s expression hardly changed, but there was a softening around his eye that somehow reassured her that her head would not be ending up on a spike on the castle walls.

With her heart pounding like a war drum in her chest, Edeline hardly heard the minstrels play the final note of the song. It was only when the prince stepped back with an elegant bow, did she realise that she was probably supposed to respond in kind. Face heating, she managed a passible curtsy before the strains of another melody started and she was swept from the prince in a whirl of extravagant gowns as the next lot of dancers took the floor.

Stretching onto her toes, she swept the hall for any sign of the Targaryen prince, only to see him press a swift kiss to his mother’s cheek and disappear through a doorway half-hidden by a carved pillar.

It took a moment for her to regain her sense of self; to steady her breathing and remember where she was. Her moments with the prince hadn’t seemed to draw any undue attention, thank the Mother. Whilst the younger prince was not known to be the same breed of philanderer as his brother, he was not enough of a recluse that a single dance with her would set idle tongues wagging.

In her attempt to trace the wayward prince, she had made her already-tall stature even more noticeable, and it was not long before her mother found her once again.

‘There you are, sweetling.’ The elder Lady Farring was a slight creature, yet her presence was anything but. ‘I have been wanting to introduce you to Lord Costayne’s eldest son, Aden. Why don’t you tell my daughter about the Reach at this time of year? I’m sure she would be thrilled to hear all about it.’

The lordling in question was at least half a foot shorter than she and might have been described a handsome had he not been sporting what she could only assume was supposed to be a moustache on his upper lip but resembled nothing so much as a caterpillar with a receding hairline.

Entirely oblivious to the pleading glance she threw her lady mother, Lord Aden launched into an enthusiastic description of his family’s coastal estate; the prime feature of which seemed to be a truly astounding number of seagulls.

Lady Farring chose to ignore her youngest daughter’s plight, and instead drifted away towards her brother, presumably to subject him to the same martial torture. Edeline found herself wishing, not for the first time this evening, for the solitude of the forge, or at the very least, company that was not so frightfully dull.

Was this what she was destined for? A husband who talked ceaselessly without realising she was not listening, who did not care for her pastimes or opinions?

If only to please her mother, Edeline managed to endure another half-bell of thrilling descriptions of the varieties of apples grown in the Reach, before politely extricating herself from the lordling’s company. Half-obscured by an arrangement of roses, generously provided by House Tyrell, she was told by a passing squire, she found herself content to watch the movements of power throughout the hall.

Conversation ebbed and flowed around her, knots of nobles and dignitaries forming and dispersing, following the movements of the true power players of the realm. Although the king was not in attendance, many members of the Great Houses were, and casually traded gossip, lies and secrets amongst themselves as if they were nothing more than coppers at the market, not the means to alter the lives of those less influential.

As the evening grew later, and the crowds thinned, she found her mind wandering to the prince’s sword, half-complete in the workshop. With the King’s celebrations, she had not gotten as far as she would have wished in the blade’s forging. She would need to arrive at the smithy several bells earlier than usual upon the morrow if she wanted to have anything of worth to show Prince Aemond in four days’ time.

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

#aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #prince aemond #aemond the kinslayer #aemond nation #aemond smut #aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #OC #OFC #aemond x OFC #aemond x OC #hotd #house of the dragon #house targaryen

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catsafarithewriter · 9 months

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A/N: PART 11 of the Bedlam au! Today we detour on an Other case :)

The cavern Haru descends into is dank and dimly lit, and bears the distinct stench of guano.

"What I don't get," she says once she drops from the rope and lands alongside the rest of the Bureau, "is why they decided they had to build their underground shopping centre here. Surely there are other, less-dragon-infested caves around."

"It was probable cheaper to buy this cave, and then hire somebody out to deal with the dragons," Other Muta grumbles cynically. "And apparently that somebody is us."

"That, or it'll be a location choice," Other Toto adds.

Haru waits for Muta's inevitable snap-back (and, privately, she agrees more with his hypothesis) but it never comes. "Or that," is the reply instead.

The Other Baron summons a small sphere of light and deposits it into Haru's hand. It bobs gently just above her palm, and is comfortably warm to the touch. "Ready to go?"

"Sure." She leans towards him. "How did you get Muta and Toto to stop arguing?" she whispers.

He stares at her, and Haru gets the distinct impression he would blink, if he could. "They do argue. You've seen them."

"Back at the Bureau, sure, and they've never really got into a full argument," she says, thinking that the most Other Toto and Other Muta got to was light bickering. "I mean out here, on cases."

The Other Baron smiles. "It's a case. They don't argue on cases."

Haru's nose wrinkles, and the Other Baron laughs. He starts down a tunnel, another small ball of light in his hand. "From that expressing, I'm guessing the Toto and Muta of your world don't make that sort of distinction?"

"I don't think I'd ever seen them work together," Haru admits. She decides that one time they locked her and the previous Baron in a haunted house in an attempt to get them to talk didn't count.

(In their meagre defence, no one had known the place was haunted at the time, and it had been Valentine's Day. Sometimes, it was a minor miracle that Baron had not discerned her true feelings earlier; apparently she'd been so obvious to everyone else, she might as well have had a flashing neon sign above her head.)

"A shame," the Other Baron hums. "They really can achieve so much when they put their heads together."

"Oh, they do that plenty often. So long as you count headbutting."

The Other Baron laughs again, and it makes Haru's heart soar and ache all in the same moment. Not for the first time does she grieve that she couldn't still have this easy relationship with the Baron she'd once called hers.

"So tell me about these dragons," she says, pushing aside the sudden mourning. She follows as closely alongside Baron as the narrow passageway will allow. "I mean, we've met dragons before, and usually one is enough of a handful, let alone a whole infestation."

"These ain't yer usual dragons, Chicky," Other Muta calls to her. "These are like the pigeon equivalent of dinosaurs."

"So... small?" Haru asks hopefully.

"And pretty dumb. We could round 'em up with a net, and the rest would just sit and watch."

Haru finds herself waiting again for a "birdbrain" remark, or some other quick dig at Toto, only to be surprised once more. They duck through an arch, and the tunnel abruptly opens into an expansive cavern.

Haru almost whistles – and then thinks better of it when she sees just how many dragons cling to the ceiling. "We're gonna need some big nets then," she says. "And possibly a couple of years."

The cavern's roof above is glimmering with the hoards of tiny greater crested dragons slumbering along it, perched like bats and about the same size. They emit a gentle glow, their throats an embering red from the fire which simmers in their chests.

Other Toto lands on Haru's shoulder – in this world, it seems only the Other Baron has been altered to a human height – and offers her a reassuring smile. "Greater crested dragons are territorial and will defend their home if threatened – but fortunately for us, they only do so with creatures smaller than themselves, and given that generally they don't live long enough to grow any bigger than a rat, we should be fine."

"Depends on the rat," Haru murmurs, but dutifully allows Baron to place what appears to be a camping peg in her spare hand. "Is the plan to capture them all with a really big tent or..."

"These are threshold wards," the Other Baron says.

"They look like camping pegs."

"That's because they are," he says cheerfully, "which I have engraved with wards that establish a one-way barrier. Set three down within an area, and they'll create a barrier that enable someone to exit, but not to enter."

Haru turns the peg over in her hand, revealling what looks like a rune etched along the side. "So when the dragons leave to hunt..."

"Which they do regularly, upon nightfall, they won't be able to return and will have to find an alternative home." He passes a set to Other Toto, who flies off – presumably to stopper any higher exits.

"Have you tried this before?" Haru asks.

The Other Baron attaches one peg to the top of the arch they'd entered through. "Not with dragons, admittedly, but I've heard this method is very effective with clearing bats."

"Bats, dragons, what's the difference?" Other Muta remarks. "It's not like one can breathe fire or anything."

Haru wedges the tent peg into the right hand corner of their entrance just as Other Muta does the same with the left. An iridescent sheen shimmers across the tunnel opening just as the ground shudders.

#bedlam au #cat writes

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dall18camacho · 2 years

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hermes mini kelly 26

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#hermes mini kelly #mini kelly bag #mini kelly #mini kelly 2 #mini kelly ii

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ppersonna · 3 years

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good for me | ksj - m

“ stay on the ground until your knees hurt. no more praying baby, imma be your preacher ” - church, chase atlantic

✹ summary- You’ve forgotten something very important and your husband, Seokjin, makes sure you never forget it again.

✹ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

✹ pairing- kim seokjin x reader

✹ word count- 2.3k

✹ genre- smut, pwp, no plot, you’d have to DIG for a plot, like............. thats all there is to it. there is nothing else.

✹ warnings- hard dom!seokjin, oral sex (m receiving), spanking, degredation, dirty talk, shower sex, established relationship,

✹ a/n- this has been in the drafts for some time. i debated posting it because it literally has no substance LMAOOOOO but hey fuck it. here’s some hard dom jin because 🥵 i needed it. thank u to @chimoona for her help and for my ladies @xjoonchildx @ladyartemesia @untaemedqueen always giving me the hype.

The best part of exercising is the shower afterwards.

Sure, you enjoy the benefits of cardio and weight training, but nothing ever feels as good as a hot steamy shower after you’re drenched in sweat.

It’s what you’re looking forward to as you climb out of your car and trudge your weary body to the front door.

It’s late in the evening now—Seokjin’s car is in the driveway next to yours, and you figure he must have returned home sometime while you were gone. You open the door and call out to your husband, alerting him to your return as you drop your keys onto the entryway table and kick off your gym shoes.

It’s quiet in the house, not a single reply from Seokjin, but you quickly dismiss it. He’s likely busy, or stepped outside to the backyard for a phone call.

It’s no matter. All you can think about is turning on the shower and stepping into the spray and allowing the shower to soothe away tension and wash away the slick.

Your body is sticky with sweat and the bra and legging combo you wore is an unattractive darker color from the moisture. You’re peeling off the clothes as you make your way upstairs towards your shared bedroom. The clothes land somewhere near the laundry basket—you don’t care where—and you’re completely naked by the time your feet touch the marble of the bathroom floor.

The muscles in your body relax the instant you turn the knobs of the shower to hot, as hot as you can make it. It takes a moment to warm up, and you generously use the time to roll out your sore muscles and gaze at your figure in the mirror.

There are still marks on your body from your last playtime with Jin.

Some nights, you have sex with him like a normal, married couple. Missionary, soft and gentle, plenty of emotion and sweet whispered words.

Other nights, however, you willingly allow the sadist in him to gratify the masochist in you. He takes control, demands submission, and you freely give.

Your time with your husband last night was the latter. He bent you over the bed and paddled your ass until you cried, and your pussy drooled onto the floor below you. He was relentless, powerful, and it made you putty in his hands. There was no one else on the earth you trusted more than Seokjin. You knew he would never intentionally hurt you in a way that didn’t bring you pleasure. And it made your desire for him burn even brighter.

The bathroom is steamy by the time you’ve finished checking out the delicious marks your husband left on you, and you slip into the shower with a grateful sigh. The pressure feels incredible on your muscles and you allow your eyes to close as you bask in the steam and heat.

The cascading water and intoxicating heat clouds your mind and you never notice the bathroom door open or the sound of clothing being removed. You’re so distracted that you never hear the glass door of the shower open.

And it’s too late now.

You’re instantly being pressed up against the cold tile of the bathroom, a hot and hard body behind you making you squeak in surprise.

Jin has joined you in the shower, and he’s pressed your chest to the cool wall and tangles his hands in your hair.

“Look what we have here,” he tuts. “Nice to see you showed up.”

You furrow your brow, confused on what he’s talking about. He plays with your hair as he continues to hold you against the wall, cheek turned and flat against the tile.

“Jin, wha—,” he cuts you off before you can finish.

“That’s not my name, baby doll.”

His voice is distinct from his usual.

This one radiates power. It oozes danger. And your cunt is already squeezing around nothing at the sound.

“S-sir,” you gasp. Your breathing is heavy, body overcome with desire.

“That’s a good girl,” he praises. He lets a free hand travel down your wet back towards your ass, where he cups a cheek in his hand delicately.

“Now, can my good girl tell me what she did wrong today?”

His hands rub the globe gently, and you shiver. His hands feel so strong, so ready to deliver the firm swats or gentle caresses you crave the most.

You’re racking your rattled brain as hard as you can, desperate to figure out what you’ve done wrong.

“I—I can’t remember,” you murmur.

He tsks, upset at your answer.

“You better start remembering, little one.”

His hand rubs at the skin of your ass once more, before he’s lifting his hand and bringing it back down onto your cheeks with a crack. Your body jolts in reply and the stinging of your buttocks travels straight to your core. A low whimper leaves your lips—a sound of brewing desire more than despair.

“Don’t you want to be my good girl?” He asks as he rubs the reddening mark. “Tell me what you’ve done wrong and you won’t be punished.”

You puff out a breath in frustration, unable to remember what you’ve done.

Jin notices and delivers another slap to your ass, this time on the opposite cheek, and you yelp.

“I-I,” you stutter, brain spinning desperately to remember what it is you’ve missed.

“If you’ve forgotten how to use your voice, then please, let’s put that mouth to use.”

He turns your body, your back now pressed against the tile where your tits once were. Your eyes widen. He looks like a fucking god. He’s wet and dripping from the spray of the shower, and his eyes burn like coals, stoked by his desire for you. He steps back from you, allows you to drink in his image pridefully.

His cock is rock hard, straining and thick against his abdomen. He doesn’t bother to touch it, doesn’t stroke or grasp it. His eyes are drilling holes into your own with intensity and you can feel your submissive nature begging you to kneel. It’s what he wants.

He knows you—knows you better than you likely know yourself. You’re lowering on to your knees with no thought, eyes fixated on his like he likes.

“No hands,” he speaks gently. “Dirty fucking whores don’t get to use their hands.”

His powerful hands grip your damp hair, gathering a bunch and bringing your face to the tip of his cock.

“You wanna suck daddy’s cock?” He asks, tone almost teasing. He rubs the head against your plump lips, allowing them to collect the generous pre-cum at the tip.

You nod, big simpering eyes peering up at him.

“Please, daddy,” you beg. “Let me suck your cock.”

He rubs your lips a few moments more, before grasping your jaw in his hands and prying your mouth open.

“Suck.”

His hips thrust forward and suddenly your mouth fills with his length. You almost gag, almost, but you squeeze your fists tight and will it away. Jin smirks as he sees the tears build in your eyes from the pressure and continues forward until his cock fills your entire throat.

“Oh fuck,” he sighs. “Look at you take it all like a practiced whore.”

He pulls out slowly, torturously calculated and measured, before he’s slamming his length back into your throat and starting a pace.

Your mouth becomes a simple vessel for him and his pleasure. You tuck your teeth in as best as you can as he fucks your throat, cheeks hollowing as you attempt to tighten the space in your mouth, and lave your tongue over any inch of his cock you can find.

He keeps his hand on your head, grip tightening steadily on your hair.

“Shit,” he puffs a breath. “Best fucking cocksleeve.”

His head tips back as he enjoys the slurping, sloppy sounds your mouth is making. Saliva is sliding down the corners of your mouth where it gathers and drips to the wet marble floor below.

Jin delights in the way you submit to him. He feels powerful, feels like a god. He loves you, every single aspect of you in the bedroom and outside of it. And he absolutely loves it when you’re on your knees, begging like a good girl. So good for him, even when you fuck up.

He peers back down at you, pushing more hair out of your face tenderly while he fucks your willing mouth.

“Mm, this is where you belong, isn’t it? This is what this hot little mouth is meant for.”

He punctuates his sentences with quicker, rougher snaps of his hips that force his cock to the very back of your throat. Your eyes spill over with tears and your throat tightens in reaction, squeezing the head of Jin’s cock.

“Ah, fuck yes, choke on it.”

He’s absolutely enamored by the way you work harder, mouth bobbing along with his thrusts. You get off on this just as much as he does—you love to be degraded and treated like a whore in the bedroom while he treats you like the queen you are outside of it.

His queen, bowing in front of him to give him pleasure through her submission.

It’s one of the many reasons he loves you so fucking much.

He can feel his stomach tightening, core clenching as his orgasm builds. Simply watching your tears, mixed with the shower water slip down your face has his balls and heart yearning.

“You ready to swallow my cum, doll?” He asks, fully knowing the answer.

Your impossibly beautiful and big eyes widen even further and Jin stifles a groan at the sight of you, the definition of submission personified.

“Mm, I know you are.” He pumps harder into your gaping mouth, groaning at how wet and hot it is despite your aching jaw. “You love swallowing cum. It’s your favorite meal of the day.”

He’s gritting his teeth as his orgasm becomes more and more apparent and you bob your head earnestly to bring him off. You easily accommodate him without your hands, and he swells with pride at how good you are for him.

“That’s my perfect little slut,” he grits. He’s staving off the orgasm as long as he can, wants to soak in every moment of you gagging on his length.

Your hand seeks purchase on Jin’s thick thighs, holding on for balance as your head bobs quickly and your throat works overtime to accommodate his length. Another quick glance up to him is all it takes for him to fall to pieces. He can never resist the way you look at him with a mouth full of cock.

His cock pulses with each groan and you whine cutely as he fills your mouth with his seed. You slow your movements and stay put, staring at him as his cock twitches.

He gently pulls his spent cock from your lips, panting as he attempts to right himself.

“Open up,” he demands in a gentle voice.

You’re compliant—mouth opening to display Seokjin’s thick cum pooled on your tongue. It makes him grin.

“Nasty,” he winks. “Swallow, my love.”

He rests a hand on your throat, wants to feel as you swallow his seed down. It makes his cock twitch back to life, ready to go again and again. It doesn’t matter how long he’s been married to you—he’ll always find the stamina for a round two.

“Are you ready to discuss what happened today?”

Jin holds out his hand for you, which you take gratefully to stand up inside the shower.

“Yes, please.”

Jin wraps his arms around you and pulls you under the spray of the shower. He places gentle and soft kisses up and down your neck as his hands slither up and down your wet body.

“What’s the date today?” He whispers as he kisses the shell of your ear.

“It’s the eighth--,” you start, before your eyes wide. “Oh, my god.”

He smiles and pulls back to look into your eyes.

“It is the eighth, yes, and?”

“It’s our wedding anniversary.”

Your heart sinks. In the hustle and bustle of the day, it slipped from your mind of your anniversary. He had planned an entire evening to spend together, and you had forgotten all about it, abandoned the plans for a night at the gym.

“Oh, my god, Jin, I am so sorry. I totally forgot.”

Jin kisses at your face, cupping your cheeks with his hands.

“Baby, it's okay,” he assures as he kisses your shower-slick lips. “I’m not mad. The steaks are a little cold, but…”

You cling harder to your husband.

“God, I’m an idiot. I owe you!”

He chuckles in your ear as he wraps his arms tight around you. Anniversary or not, Seokjin is in love with you. And he can forgive a simple mistake. Especially when you make up for it so sweetly.

“You’re not an idiot, baby. You can show me how sorry you are tonight when you’re tied up to the bed and taking my cock, hm?”

You lick your lips, already excited for the delicious punishments Jin must have planned for you.

“I love you,” you murmur, standing on tip-toes to press another kiss to his full lips.

“Mmm, and I love you,” he replies. “And you’re going to be good for me tonight, aren’t you baby?”

Jin is turning off the shower as you nod.

He gathers a towel and steps out, drying every inch of your body before guiding you to the bedroom.

“Show me.”

#bts smut #seokjin smut #jin smut #kim seokjin smut #kim seokjin #ficswithluv #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts fic #bts fics

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notexactlyrocketscience · 2 years

Text

A lot of people are doubting whether the ten-minute version of All Too Well that's out now is the actual ten-minute version Taylor initially wrote before RED came out—The main source of this suspicion are the words “Fuck the Patriarchy” being on a random keychain a decade ago, when the phrase wasn’t even popular. I’ve heard people claiming that her making a big deal of putting out the very original version is just marketing strategy, and she really wrote the extra parts in 2021.

First: while it wasn’t mainstream, the quote “Fuck the patriarchy,” did (kinda) exist at that time. It was allegedly of more niche popularity in some Tumblr headers/Etsy stores/Urban Outfitters products … so it is actually not impossible that Jake Gyllenhaal did have one.

But was it likely that he had one? Well … the lyrics are kind of pointing to the irony of being a thirty-year-old man who has feminist slogans written on his belongings, but then throwing the car keys on the ground while he’s busy being in an unflattering rage on the phone so that his twenty-year-old partner has to pick it up and then drive him around. (The short film also portrayed him dropping dishes in the sink for her to deal with as he actively gaslit her.) We’ve all met those kinds of men: drunk in status and privilege, with impeccably maintained attractive outward personalities, only to be a toxic misogynistic deep down. So yes, quite likely.

But did he really and truly own one? Or did Taylor just add that in for the shock value and novelty of having a swear word at the very beginning of the newer lyrics? (And to lure in young girls who will most definitely find the idea of shouting these words in a chorus quite appealing?) Well, we can’t know which it is, but I personally don’t really care either way—

Songwriting is a LONG process. Most songs start as ad-lib gibberish, and then a jumble of phrases that don’t rhyme very well, and then—gradually—distinct, structured verses that build in the beat and melodies. If you skim through the early ATW drafts given in the Lover album booklets, it looks nearly nothing liked the finished version(s):

Transcript:

There we are again when you blew the candle out Took this blazing love, steering it right into the ground Shaking running scared I was there

I left I walked in through the door with you The air was cold Pictures on the fireplace You're showing You showed me around

Well I left my scarf there at your sister's house On the banister, I remember even now You'll mail back my things in a box with no note Except for that scarf from that very first week—Cause Yeah you keep in it in your drawer cause it smells like me It was the one real thing you've ever felt and You remember it all too well

There we are again You're crying on the phone Realised you lost The one real thing you've ever known

So … what really counts as the original ATW? There’s no doubt that Taylor has heavily edited the initial spontaneous quarter-of-an-hour recording of the jamming session with her band in which ATW was born, to give us both the final five-minute and ten-minute versions. That’s what any good songwriter does, usually. So was there a finalized, polished (literally lost in a drawer and/or forgotten) 2012 Red era ten-minute version that we’re still deprived of? I doubt it. I am sure, though, that Taylor really and truly put heartfelt effort into doing ATW justice in the 2021 Red (TV) era.

Is this the ten-minute song that she would have come up with in 2012, had she been able to seriously work on it? The slightly folklore/evermore-esque writing implies probably not, because she has evolved as an artist—There’s really no going back from knowledge and skill from experience, is there? So if anything, this version is better. AND it tells the full story that she wants us to know. She didn’t have to, but she deep-dived into and relived her memories from a decade ago, just to finished it for us; because we hoped and prayed and asked for it for years after we first heard the slightest wind of it, and it’s beautiful and honestly, I could not ask for more.

So, going forward, there’s no question of it: This IS All Too Well. The standard version, as Taylor herself likes to say. And it couldn’t be more perfect.🧣

I think this version is THE version of the song that was meant to be heard.

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danniburgh · 3 years

Text

Give you what you want (Javier Peña x f!reader x Horacio Carrillo)

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader x Horacio Carrillo

Summary: You’ve been crushing hard on Javier - and Colonel Carrillo. And when they both find out about it, they can’t help but indulge you.

Word count: +11.1k

Chapter warnings: mild angst, mentions of violence, divorce talk, discussion of polyamorous relationship. OT3 SMUT, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, double penetration, alcohol, a lot of cum lol

A/N: this is a collab between me, @maharani-radha-writes and @queenofthefaceless, okay, yes this is a repost (basically the blog in which this os was posted blocked me). originally posted on april 6th 2021

ao3 // Masterlist // ko-fi

comments and reblogs are eternally appreciated 💓

Carrillo slammed his face on the steering wheel of his car with a groan. He had just spent all day in court finalizing his divorce—which had been going on for months—and just as he had gotten home, he realized that he had forgotten his service pistol at the office. Something he was not allowed to bring in the courtroom.

Fuckers.

He had separation anxiety from it, so even though he had multiple spares in the house, he had one trusty weapon, and he wouldn’t be caught dead without it. He glanced at the clock, and saw that it was only eight o’clock, so it wasn’t too late for him to swing back to base and grab it. Shaking his head, he turned the ignition of his car back on and reversed out of his driveway to head back to the station.

When he got there, he used his keys to enter through the back doorway, not really wanting to have to greet the guards at the front. He was just… way too done with people that day. Although he and his by then ex-wife had separated amicably (or as amicably as it could get), the divorce had taken a huge toll on him. He and Juliana had separated about five months before, and he had spent that time sitting in lawyers’ conference rooms, arguing over this and that. He was ready to just give her everything and anything she wanted if it meant he could get that painful process over with.

Truth be told, Carrillo was lonely. He had been for a long time, even while he was still married to Juliana. They had been less of a married couple and more like roommates for the past year at least, and it was getting to them both. His job was tough and dangerous–Juliana didn’t understand a lot of it. To be fair, he kept most of it from her, but that got exhausting after a while. He longed to just...let go, and he couldn’t do that with her. And after a while, she had decided that staying married to him (and his job) was more trouble than it was worth. He couldn’t blame her, not one bit.

It didn’t matter any more. He had firmly closed that chapter of his life, and was ready to move on. He didn’t know what the future looked like for him, but the only thing that he was sure of was that Pablo Escobar would be dead. He would make sure of it–even if he died trying.

After finding his service pistol, which had been stuffed in a holster under his desk, Carrillo closed the door to his office, and proceeded to walk down the hallway to the back exit. But he stopped when he heard voices coming from the bullpen.

Odd.

He hadn’t seen anyone when he had come in. He turned slightly and strained his ears to try to see if he could discern who it was. Then he heard the distinct Southern American drawl of none other than Steve Murphy. The man had been pulling late nights in the office ever since his wife got up and left him.

“All right, kiddo, care to tell me what the fuck your problem is?”

Who–? Was “kiddo”? It certainly couldn’t be Peña. It was a Friday night, surely Peña was off….doing something (or someone) else.

“What’s my problem? What’s your problem, Murph?”

Oh, it was you. The lone female agent of the DEA. Carrillo had been quite wary of you when you had joined the team about a year before. He really wasn’t sure what, if anything, you would be bringing to the table. And he thought that having two DEA agents was two too many already. But over time, you had proven to be a strong, capable, and intelligent partner, and his respect for you had grown.

Bringing you to Colombia had been a good decision, on the part of your superiors.

Now that he had identified the two people still stuck in the base, he should have been satisfied and been on his way. But something about Steve’s tone of voice kept him rooted to the spot. He really, really shouldn’t have been eavesdropping, especially since he was sure that it was a conversation he was not meant to hear.

“You’re on edge. A lot more than usual,” Steve said, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, Steve. Just drop it,” you grumbled.

“Oh, so there is something?” Steve snarked, “Look, I normally would back off and leave you alone, but you’ve been highly distracted lately. And it’s affecting your work. I need to know what’s up or at least confirm that you’re going to get this resolved soon because we need your head in the game.”

Now that Steve mentioned it, Carrillo had noticed that you were...not yourself. And you hadn’t been for a while. But Carrillo was too caught up in his own drama to give it much of a thought.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed, “I’ll try not to be so scatterbrained. I’ll fix it, I promise.”

“Is this what I think it is? The thing you told Connie that I’m not supposed to know about?” Steve asked.

Carrillo knew he absolutely needed to leave. That was not a conversation he should be listening to. But he just could not help it.

“You’re going to have to be more specific, Steve. I’ve told Connie a lot of things,” you chuckled, nervously.

“I mean about–” there was a pause, presumably Steve looking around to check that nobody was there, “–your feelings. For, uh, ya know, Peña?”

Oh. That was news.

“And–uh–Carrillo I think?” Steve continued.

Wait...what?

Carrillo whipped his head around so fast that he winced as his neck twinged in protest. Since when...since when did you have feelings? For him? And Peña? What was happening? Someone needed to shoot him because that could not be real.

“Must you say it aloud?” you hissed.

“I’m sorry, kiddo, I don’t mean to embarrass you,” Steve apologized, “And normally I would mind my own fucking business, but this is getting out of hand. You really don’t think I notice the cows’ eyes you make at Peña when he’s not looking?”

“I don’t do that!” you denied, indignantly.

“Okay fine, maybe that’s a bit dramatic,” Steve conceded, “But the point still stands. You definitely need to get this fixed. Have you thought, oh I don’t know, telling Peña? Or even Carrillo?”

“Are you crazy?” you stammered, “Do you have any idea what that would do to my career? Not to mention that Carrillo is...fucking married?”

“Well, he’s divorced now,” Steve clarified, “And nobody has to know. It’s nobody else’s business but yours. I’m just saying, think about it ok? You deserve an outlet, just like everyone else.”

Carrillo decided that it was best to not stay and hear what you had to say to that. Instead, he hightailed it out of the base, as quickly as he could, trying to keep his footsteps light so as not to alert you and Steve to his presence. Once he was finally in the safety of his car, he put his head back onto the seat and let out a long breath, trying to figure out what he was going to do with that information. He couldn’t deny that the idea of you having feelings for him was incredibly flattering. You were a very guarded individual and quite hard to read sometimes–not so dissimilar to him. He would have never, in a million years, guessed that you would be interested in him, and that was mostly due to your closed off persona.

But to find out that you had feelings for both him and Peña? That was an interesting development. Carrillo didn’t know how to feel about that. But he can’t deny that it intrigued him...more than it should have. His mother would be completely mortified if she found out that he was entertaining this--whatever it was.

But his mother was not here. His wife was gone, and had taken the kids with her. It was just him, and his large house. And now, apparently, you and possibly Peña. Carrillo tilted his head contemplatively and started the ignition of his car.

Maybe...just maybe, there was something to this whole charade.

**Scene Break 1**

Steve was tired. Scratch that, he was exhausted. Not physically, but mentally.

Javier had been looking at you for far too long, and Steve could taste the yearning and the tension that lingered around the office when Peña looked at you. It was maddening, and Steve had no idea how Peña had managed this long without jumping you. After all, he never seemed to have a problem getting a woman’s attention and keeping it. So, why were you so different?

And the worst part of this whole circus is that you were so blissfully unaware of it. It made Steve’s mouth foam with rage.

When he told Connie over the phone, the previous night, what you had said to him and how you had confessed to being attracted to both men, she actually convinced him to talk to Javi on your behalf. Because Connie knew you, and she knew you would just shut up about it, guard it as if you were a dragon with a treasure, never say a thing, and suffer in silence until your feelings went away. And if they didn’t. Too bad. Steve hadn’t wanted to get involved. After all, you were an adult, and Javier was an adult. You should be able to sort these things out yourself. But alas, that had not happened. And if Steve didn’t do something about it, it was going to get out of hand, quickly.

So when you got up from your desk and got out of the office, Steve walked to Javier and slammed his hand on a pile of files that Javier was almost hiding behind.

“Yes, Murphy, how can I help you?” Peña drawled, trying to keep his voice as even and unaffected as possible.

“Don’t give me that innocent bullshit, Peña,” Steve growled, “I’m so sick of you.”

“What could I have possibly done now?” Javier huffed, pulling a cigarette out of his pack and lighting it. He figured that if he played dumb, Steve would go away.

Alas.

“You, and her,” Steve said, emphasizing his point by jabbing his finger in the direction of the door you had just walked out of, “There’s something between the two of you. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

Javier decided not to answer that. Instead he just took a puff of his cigarette and stared at Steve, daring him to continue.

“I’m serious Peña, stop playing coy. This is starting to affect your working relationship, and I’m getting sick of it,” Steve grumbled, “Do something about it. Now.”

It took a few moments of silence, but Javier finally decided to concede to Steve. Truth was, Javier’s head was full of thoughts. Full of you. Truth be told, getting infatuated with you was just a matter of time.

You were just… frustratingly attractive, incredibly strong and so damn smart. A dangerous combination, you were almost perfect. And that, scared the shit out of him. It had been a long time since Javier felt like that; he didn’t like the vulnerability of it all, he didn’t like how it was way too apparent that whatever you did, for small that it was, affected him in some way. He didn’t like the fact that he wanted to be with you all the time, see you all the time, talk to you all the time. He wanted to protect you all the time even when he knew you could perfectly protect yourself. And he had been feeling like that for months.

Javier interpreted that as karma, getting so madly, deeply into you and getting absolutely nothing in return. Until Steve chimed in, nosy as ever, to speak about something that was clear as a water drop but he just kept denying from himself.

He replayed what Steve had told him while he puffed from his cigarette and for a split second, and let himself smile at the words of his partner.

Steve was right. He was aware of how much he had been missing and how affected his job seemed to be because of how much time he spent thinking about you. It was so unlike him, and it was very unprofessional. But he just couldn’t help it.

You and your strikingly beautiful being. You letting him hold you close. You, with your hands on him. You and how sweet your lips must taste. You and how your naked body must look in the dimmed lights of his bedroom. Fuck.

So he decided, after his partner all but scolded him about being too dumb to realize, that he was going to face you and just… make things happen.

Steve smiled to himself while looking down at a file when Javier stood up from his own desk and walked out of the office.

“Attaboy,” he mumbled to himself.

**Scene Break 2**

You weren’t sure what it was, but suddenly the air in that bullpen had become oppressive, and you just needed to get out. Well, frankly...you weren’t stupid. You knew what was causing you to feel this way. It was stupid Steve and his stupid way of being right all the time, how the fuck did he do that? At some point, you were going to have to tell Javier (and possibly Carrillo, as well) how you felt, but if you could put it off for longer, you were absolutely going to do so.

You sat on the concrete wall bordering the police base, observing quietly as the citizens of Medellín went about their day, getting lunch and catching up with their colleagues. There was a man selling arepas just a few feet from you, and the smell was amazing. But no matter how tantalizing the scent was, you just couldn’t bring yourself to eat. All you needed was some air. Yeah, that’s what you needed. You’d be fine after a few moments.

Unfortunately, your peace wasn’t to last long, and as you were soon to discover, your observational skills would need a check up because Colonel Horacio Carrillo himself had just plopped himself next to you, and you hadn’t even noticed. Carrillo, for his part, waited a few moments before clearing his throat, startling you from your thoughts, and successfully getting your attention.

Ah shit.

One of the exact men that you didn’t want to deal with right now was sitting right next to you.

Joy.

“Those arepas look fantastic,” he remarked in that lovely accent you really liked, “Do you want one?”

You shook your head.

“No thank you,” you mumbled, “I’m fine.”

Carrillo hummed.

“I’m sure we could find something else if you would prefer. There’s all kinds of food in Medellín,” he replied. But you refused again.

“No, really, I’m fine. I don’t want any food,” you said.

Carrillo tilted his head and clasped his hands together, leaning forward slightly. He gave a small, almost imperceptible smirk, and if you didn’t know him so well, you would have missed it.

“I see,” he observed, amusedly, “So, then, Agent. What do you want?”

You frowned, and furrowed your eyebrows. What...what was he doing?

“I–I don’t want anything,” you replied, completely flabbergasted.

“Hmmm,” Carrillo began, “I don’t believe you. I think you want something.”

You raised your eyebrows at that. You’d never known the Colonel to be so bold.

“I want Escobar dead,” you quipped, “Same as you, I suppose.”

“Ah yes, I certainly want that,” Carrillo agreed, “But I want something else. Something that I imagine might be the same as you.”

You scratched the back of your neck, nervously, not sure where this was going.

“All right, Colonel, I’ll bite. What is it that you want?” you questioned.

Carrillo adjusted his position on the wall, turning so that he was facing you squarely. He looked you straight in the eyes before taking a deep breath, as if he was working up the courage to say something.

“You.”

You felt the air leave your lungs, Carrillo’s face was a puzzle laid before you but before you could say something else, you heard a deep, timbered voice calling your name.

You reluctantly turned around and saw Peña walking up to the both of you, you felt Carrillo shift beside you and let out a sigh, as if he knew something like that would happen.

“I was looking for you,” Javier mumbled, almost as if he didn’t want anyone else to hear but you.

“So, you found me,” your voice was shaky after the Colonel’s admission, and you tried to control it “What?”

“Can we–uh–talk?” he said, and you looked back at Carrillo.

“Can it wait?” you pleaded.

“No,” Javier declared.

“I think I know what this is about,” Carrillo announced, and you frowned at him, asking with your eyes for him to elaborate. But he just stayed quiet, looking between you and Peña.

“What do you mean?” Javier huffed, “This is a private conversation that I need to have with her.”

“I think we all need to have this conversation,” Carrillo mumbled, looking at the ground for half a second before returning his gaze to you and Javier.

“What are you two on?” you asked, frantically, “I am so confused.”

Javier glanced at the Colonel, at the way he was all but shifting around like a nervous kid. He realized Carrillo moved like he was hiding something, like he had a secret he so wanted to confess.

“Do you know something?” Javier questioned him, furrowing his brow. The Colonel turned to study him and there was a small moment in which they said nothing, and their eyes just locked.

And there, Javier saw him, as he was. Colonel Horacio Carrillo was an honorable man, everyone knew that, but as he was honorable he was dark, and Javier had a small suspicion of what he knew and was badly hiding.

Javier felt himself smirk at the man and Carrillo smirked back, and Javi knew it. Because he never misses things like that. For him is like having a sixth sense, somehow enhanced by his career and his experience. He just knows. Javier had never been indifferent to men. After all, being honest with himself, he had a little crush on Steve before he saw the wedding band. And Carrillo was… just his type. He never thought he would have the chance to even get closer to the Colonel like that. In the end, the time was not right and he was quite sure Carrillo wasn’t like that.

Clearly, he had been mistaken.

“Okay you two, I’ve had enough,” you grumbled, “What is going on? I’m sick of these games.”

“This is not a game,” Carrillo said, finally looking at you, you felt your frown get deeper.

“Then what is it?” you demanded.

Javier shrugged and took one last look at Carrillo, as if to confirm his consent, and replied.

“An arrangement,” he deadpanned, “With both of us.”

“If you want it,” Carrillo added, quickly.

You shot up from the wall you were sitting on and turned to glare at both of them. Javier put his hands on his waist and leaned on a leg, and Carrillo stood up as well, clasped hands in front of him, just waiting for you to say something. Anything.

Javier glanced nervously at Carrillo from the corner of his eye, searching his face for any sign of hesitation. I hope this is gonna go how you were planning, Carrillo, he thought, Because if it doesn’t and she refuses to speak to me again after this...I swear to god–

“Where did you get this idea?” you blabbered, feeling the sting of nervousness and insecurity settling into your stomach. Along with something else in your lower belly you refused to acknowledge at all.

Javier sighed, and shook his head.

“Steve Murphy has a big mouth,” he murmured.

“Dios mío,” you exclaimed, “He told you both?”

“Well, he told me,” Javier said, running a hand through his hair, “I don’t know about our Colonel over here.”

Now it was Carrillo’s turn to look sheepish.

“No, he didn’t say anything to me,” Carrillo admitted, “I overheard the two of you talking the other day.”

“You eavesdropped on me?” you gasped, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Is nothing I say private?”

Carrillo at least had the grace to look ashamed.

“It was an accident,” he tried to assure you, “But–I don’t regret listening in. I haven’t stopped thinking about it. About you.”

You scrubbed your face with your hands, trying to figure out what you were going to do. It wasn’t that you were–unhappy–more so embarrassed. You’d been carrying this secret for a long time now, and to have it so out in the open made you feel more exposed than ever. And you hated the feeling.

“I’m gonna need a minute,” you said, “Can we talk about this later? I need some space.”

Without waiting for a response, you briskly walked away from the police base and in the direction of the city. You weren’t sure where you were going or when you were going to be back. All that you knew was that your privacy had been massively violated, and you needed some space to collect yourself. Alone. And perhaps when you had calmed down, you could think about Carrillo and Peña’s proposal, like a functioning adult. But right now, you were too embarrassed (and aroused, let’s be real), to think straight.

Javier turned aside to look at Carrillo when your figure had disappeared into the city.

“So,” Javier broke the not-so-awkward silence, “Are you okay with this?”

Carrillo huffed at the question and glanced at the agent, noticing in him things he hadn't noticed before.

“Are you?”

Javier felt his stomach drop at the Colonel’s question… interesting.

“I’m all in,” he replied, smirking at Carrillo.

“Yo también.”

**Scene Break 3**

It was later in the afternoon by the time you had calmed down enough to return to work. You couldn’t believe what had happened today. You absolutely wanted to smack Steve. What you had told him was in confidence, and he had broken that trust. But you couldn’t deny that you were happy with the result. The idea of having even just one of those two men was enough to get you going, but both?

Men like them?

The pool of arousal was already forming in between your legs.

You could not deny how much you had wanted this, and how much you had been dreaming about it. And for a very long time. For god’s sake, you had lost sleep over this shit. It made you feel dirty, filthy, unprofessional. But you just couldn’t help it. You’d done a decent enough job of keeping your feelings in check, but now the cat was out of the bag.

And not only did these two men know how you felt. Apparently, they felt the same way. And for some godforsaken reason, they wanted you.

Were you really going to say no to an opportunity like that? Were you truly that stupid? No matter how much you were angry with Steve.

Connie would lose her shit when you'd call her to tell her about her husband’s work.

You walked into the bullpen and saw the office door opened, the first thing you saw was Javier’s face buried inside a file, his posture rigid and his hands grasping at the folder as if it were a lifeline.

He looked up and his eyes went wide when he saw you walk in.

But then you saw Murphy, sitting like nothing had happened and you saw red. You rushed at him and without a word your hand flew and you smacked him on the back of the head.

“What the fuck?” he yelled, and you heard Javier laughing behind you.

“You asshole,” you hissed, “Exactly what made you think it was a good idea to tell him? I trusted you to keep your mouth shut.”

“Excuse me,” Steve groaned, rubbing the back of his head, “I did you a fucking favor. I got tired of hanging around with you two idiots, just looking at each other and not saying shit.”

“You should not have done that,” you growled, fixing him with what you hoped was your most intimidating glare.

“Perhaps not,” Steve shrugged, “But I don’t regret it.”

“Can I–say something?” Javier asked behind you.

“No. Shut up.” you hissed without looking back at him.

“You do something like this again, and I’ll kill you,” you threatened Steve before storming out of the base, and into the parking lot. You sat in the driver’s seat of your car and banged your head against the steering wheel. You had had every intention of finding Peña and Carrillo and taking them up on their offer, but now all feelings of boldness had been once again replaced by shame and embarrassment. No doubt you were the talk of the police base, what with your massive crush on two of your colleagues.

Although you knew it was irrational, you couldn’t help but feel as though Carrillo and Peña were making fun of you. You knew it was stupid. Both of them were grown-ass men. They wouldn’t be so immature. If they didn’t like you at all, they would have just left you alone. But you just couldn’t help the raging insecurity you were feeling. Perhaps if you had actually told both of them, directly, how you felt, rather than let Steve Murphy do the hard work, then maybe you wouldn’t be feeling this way.

But that was all water under the bridge now, you supposed.

Later that night, you were heating up a pitiful TV-dinner in your apartment, not feeling up to eating, but you needed something, when your phone rang. You froze with the fork halfway to your mouth. There were only a handful of people who had your landline number, and even then, only a few of those people would have the guts to actually call it. This wasn’t going to be a fun conversation.

Sighing, you trudged over to the phone and lifted the receiver to your ear.

“¿Sí?” you asked, quietly, and you heard the low voice of Colonel Carrillo on the other end.

“It’s me,” he said softly, “You left work rather abruptly. I called to see if you were fine.”

“As fine as I can be, given the circumstances,” you grumbled.

“I’m sorry that things transpired the way they did, truly,” Carrillo mumbled, sounding genuinely apologetic, “But I meant it when I said I don’t regret finding out.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” you snarked, “You’re not the one whose colleague breached her trust.”

There was a pause before Carrillo spoke again.

“Do you regret it?”

Now it was your turn to pause, contemplating your words and how you would respond. You didn’t want to hurt him, but at the same time, you wanted to make it clear that you weren’t pleased with the means---even if the end was fantastic.

“I regret how this started,” you replied, slowly, not trusting yourself to say anything further.

Carrillo hummed over the line, contemplating your words.

“I can’t blame you for that,” he said, “But forget about Steve for a moment, please. Have you thought about it?”

You inhaled and held your breath for ten counts, trying to calm down your racing heart. You couldn’t deny that just the mere thought of being in the same room with these two men, especially in a non-platonic setting, was difficult for you.

“I think you know the answer to that, Colonel. You aren’t stupid,” you quipped, “Have you discussed this with Peña? I must admit, I am surprised at you both. This doesn’t seem like something either of you would be interested in.”

“We’ve discussed this, absolutely,” Carrillo said, recalling the deeper conversation he had with Peña earlier that day after you had slapped Steve, “I think we’ve both surprised ourselves, if I’m being honest. But if the attraction is there, it’s there. But I want you to know, there is no pressure. This only goes as far as you want it to go.”

You frowned at that.

“What do you mean?” you pressed.

“Querida,” he sighed, “What happens between the three of us–well–Peña and I know where we stand–it’s up to you now. If you don’t want this, then just say the word. We’ll pretend this conversation never happened.”

You took a shuddering breath and tried to respond as best as you can.

“I–”

“You don’t have to give me an answer now,” Carrillo interrupted gently, “Think about it. Make sure it’s what you want. Then you can let us know.”

“I–ok,” you stuttered, for lack of a better response.

“I should leave you to your evening. But think about it, and let me know what you decide ,” Carrillo said, “Have a good night, querida.”

“Sure, good night, Colonel,” you mumbled, hearing the click on the other end, indicating that Carrillo had hung up.

You passed the rest of the evening in relative silence, going about your mundane business with an extra air of heaviness. Slowly you could feel the embarrassment from the day give way to desire. As you lay by yourself in your bed, clutching at your pillow, you couldn’t help the acute sense of loneliness that you felt. After all, you hadn’t really had anyone before you came to Colombia, and your job here certainly killed whatever chance of having a relationship you might have had. It was why you had so easily fallen for both of your colleagues.

You were lonely. And they were lonely too. But it wasn’t just out of loneliness. You’d seen what Peña was like when he just wanted to have a warm body next to him. Just as it had taken courage for you to confess how you felt to Steve, it must have taken just as much strength for Carrillo and Peña to admit the same to you. This wasn’t going to be a one time thing–born out of isolation and tragedy–it would be something much more meaningful than that. You could feel it.

You glanced at the clock, seeing that it was just past midnight. Although you knew that Carrillo usually stayed up late, you didn’t want to bother him, so you dialed the number of the only other person who you knew would be up this late.

“Hello?” Javier Peña gruffed on the other end, clearly annoyed at having been woken up.

“Javier, it’s me,” you said, by way of greeting. You heard some rustling of bedsheets, no doubt Javier was fully awake now.

“Are you all right?” he asked, concern coloring his tone.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you assured him, “I just–I’ve thought about your offer. Yours and Carrillo’s.”

You heard a sharp intake of breath over the phone.

“And what do you say, cariño?” he questioned, hope ringing in his voice.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself.

“Yes. I’m saying yes.”

**Scene Break 4**

You sat inside Javier’s car, silently, as he drove the two of you through the streets of Medellín towards Carrillo’s address. It was a Friday–exactly a week from when Carrillo had overheard you talking to Steve, and you were completely floored at how your life had changed that fast. You didn’t regret anything though, not one bit.

You were nervous though. Having one of these men was enough to make you swoon, but both? You weren’t sure what was going to happen. All you knew is that it would be a fantastic night. You just hoped that you could keep up.

A hand on your knee brought you back to the present, and you glanced over to see that Javier was eyeing you out of the corner of his eye as he drove.

“Relax, cariño,” he ordered, “It’s just us.”

You laughed.

“I know, that’s what I’m worried about,” you said, jokingly. But Javier wasn’t having it.

“Why would that make you nervous?” he asked, turning to face you when you had stopped for a red light.

“You two are my friends and colleagues,” you stated, “I don’t–want to disappoint you. Especially since we will have to go back to work after the weekend.”

Javier shook his head and pressed down harder on the accelerator, hoping that if he got you to Carrillo’s place faster, you’d stop your fatalistic thoughts.

“None of that,” he grumbled, shutting down your line of thinking as quickly as he could, “What happens between us tonight stays between us. That’s it. No pressure or expectations. Just enjoy yourself, okay?”

You nodded, not quite trusting yourself to speak. And thankfully, you didn’t have to say anything because you and Javier finally pulled up in front of Carrillo’s house. It was a much larger property than you had expected, with a beautifully-kept lawn and a mango tree just at the front of the house. It was a stunning place to live, and the thought that Carrillo had been staying there alone, with nobody to share it with, for the past several months just left you heartbroken.

Well. That was likely about to change tonight.

“You’re still sure, cariño?” Javier asked, taking your hand in his and staring at your knuckles, “If you’ve changed your mind, I can drive you back now. No questions asked.”

You shook your head.

“I’m completely sure, Javi. Don’t worry,” you assured him, and Javier nodded.

“Bueno,” he mumbled, “Let’s go.” And with that, the two of you walked up the path to Carrillo’s front door and rang the bell. Carrillo answered almost immediately, face relaxing at the sight of you.

“I hope you didn’t have too much trouble finding the place,” he greeted, stepping back to allow the two of you to enter his house.

“I have some wine if you would like,” Carrillo suggested, leading you and Javier into the kitchen after the two of you had kicked off your shoes.

Carrillo walked straight to the fridge and took out what appeared to be a pretty expensive brand of wine, but neither you nor Javier said anything in regards to it. Instead, you both sat down and exchanged a series of fugitive glances at each other.

You thought you needed the wine, the bitter, strong taste of alcohol to run through your veins in order to be able to process the moment in its entirety. But suddenly, as you glared at both Javier and Carrillo, there was no need for anything else. No liquid distraction to be drunk beforehand, no ridiculous and meaningless pleasantries or comfort words. You knew those men. You trusted them with your life every day when you went out there on the streets, and you trusted them just as much now. Their mere presence was sufficient to relax you and ease the tension, although you thought they would both agree that the tension was thicker than you could’ve imagined.

“I trust you both, and I care about you both, so damn much.”

It came out of the blue; you weren’t even sure you thought about it in your mind, and yet you said it nonetheless, standing up. Both of them seemed a little surprised by your impromptu confession, but patiently waited for your continuation, if there was any to begin with.

“What I mean is… why make this harder on ourselves? Why bother with small talk and awkward conversations when we can just… do it, enjoy the night?”

Javier was the first one who smirked. And of course he would, he was probably used to a lot of those moments, or similar ones, and had almost no issue baring it all, you thought. You swore, for a brief, almost too rushed moment, that you saw Carrillo hesitate with saying something and averting his eyes from both you and Javier, but you brushed it off. Instead, he looked tall and mighty at you, as his official position required, and smiled gallantly at you.

“You are the one in charge tonight,” he told you.

Simple, yet effective.

From the moment you heard that sentence, it did something to your ego. It gave you an unexpected boost of confidence, it sparked a desire, a flame so bright and hot you wouldn’t have believed it to be true in any other situation.

You took a few steps closer to Carrillo, all the while having Javier watch the scene unfold from the kitchen entrance. He stood up when you did, out of some long-forgotten courtesy that he didn’t used to care about anymore, and he just knew where it was all headed. He recognized the look in your eyes, the longing on your face. He knew what it meant, how much it must’ve consumed you, and he felt oddly enticed and captivated by it.

Just as swiftly as the night began, Carrillo’s hands rested on your waist while he kissed you. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he only brought you closer to him; his lips tasted surprisingly sweet, with just a faint tint of nicotine. Your chest was pressed against his, warm clothed skin found yours and you shivered against him. His hands gripped your waist as if saying farewell to them and he slid them up your body. You could feel Peña’s eyes fixed in your bodies, staring at the scene, and when the Colonel broke the kiss to nibble at your neck, you opened your eyes to see him next to you; half-lidded brown deep eyes, an opened bottle of wine in one hand and his lower lip in the other. Your skin was burning, and you had barely been touched.

You smiled at him when Carrillo took your jacket off, Peña smirked and took a sip of wine directly from the bottle, careless about any pleasantries.

Carrillo’s wet tongue latched softly at your pulse point and ripped a low moan out of you, you closed your eyes again when his hands gripped your ass over the fabric of your jeans.

“Colonel, please,” you muttered, sighing as you felt his large hands had fun with your flesh and grip it after hearing the way you called him.

“Words, querida” he just replied, putting some distance between your wet skin and his lips.

“More,” you bit your lip, Carrillo smirked at you and you noticed the way his eyes darkened with desire in front of you. He turned to look at Javier, who was still standing at the kitchen entrance, palming his erection over his jeans.

“Bring that,” Carrillo said, pointing at the bottle, then slid his hand from your ass to the small of your back and guided you towards the staircase.

Between your hazed eyes and the cloud of lust that had begun to invade your mind you looked around Carrillo’s space and wondered how a man like him could live in a place that big. You smiled to yourself when he put his hand on the small of your back and soon enough Peña caught up to you, you felt his ever so imposing presence behind you.

Carrillo opened the door to the bedroom and pushed you softly inside.

You didn’t even have time to take your surroundings in when you felt a pair of warm hands find your hips and a set of lips grazing at your earlobe. Your eyes closed by themselves and the sweet, strong smell of Javier’s cologne invaded your nostrils as he pulled your back flush against his chest.

“Sh–shit,” you let out, half a whisper, half a moan, when you felt Carrillo’s hands roam around your waist.

You were losing yourself between the touch of the two of them, you shivered when Carrillo cupped your breast as Javier nibbled at the skin of your neck, from behind, you tilted your head to the side to give him more room to do whatever–the–fuck he pleased with your neck.

“Mírate, chiquita,” Carrillo whispered, you felt his breath on your lips and when you re-opened your eyes you saw him inches away from your face “you’re already wrecked.”

You felt Javier chuckling against your flushed skin, and you bit your lower lip, bringing a hand to the Colonel’s nape to pull him closer and kiss him again.

One of Javier’s hands found itself under your shirt, his mouth was moving and his other hand pulled softly at your shirt over your shoulder to find more skin to lick and kiss. Carrillo found the hem of your shirt and broke the kiss to look at you, as if asking for permission and reassurance that you wanted what he wanted. Javier watched the silent exchange and smirked against the skin of your shoulder, he gave it a last brush of his mustache and a last kiss before you nodded to the Colonel and he helped you out of the garment.

Carrillo smiled to himself when he saw what you’ve been hiding under it, a black, only-lace bra that showed the shade of your nipples, you bit your lip again when you took in his disheveled figure, his notorious erection under his military green pants that made the pool between your legs grow.

“How are you this fucking beautiful?” Javier muttered behind you, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses behind your ear to your nape.

Your breath hitched when Carrillo kneeled in front of you and you felt your chest heaving with desire when his large fingers dextrely unbuttoned your jeans and his thumbs hooked on the hem. He looked at you again and you nodded for a second time. Javier looked over your shoulder at the Colonel slowly sliding your jeans off your hips then your legs and he left his hands roam around the now naked skin of your torso. Your hands landed on the back of his head, and he took the hint, attacking the skin of your neck once again.

Carrillo threw your jeans away once he helped you out of them and you moaned loudly when his lips grazed against your knee. One of your hands dropped to grab Carrillo’s head as his trail of kisses moved up, up, up until he reached the soft skin where your thigh and your hip joined. You were sure he could smell your arousal, you were sure he could feel it at that point and you didn’t care, for once you let yourself only feel and let all thought out of your mind while you felt two mouths, two men, take care of you.

There was no hesitation from Javier’s side as his fingers gently grazed up your spine, expertly unclasping your bra, taking in the image of the straps loosening on your smooth skin. He was damn near panting at the mere sight, but he had to remind himself that that was only the tip of the iceberg. The moans you were letting escape your mouth as Carrillo pressed gentle kisses on your inner thighs aided him in no way. He felt himself get harder and harder and fought off raging instincts to turn that moment into another one of his one-night stands.

Javier made sure he tasted your skin while he took the straps from both sides between his fingers and slid them off your shoulders, he felt you shivering under his hands and over Horacio’s mouth and you could feel the smirk on your skin, once the bra came off, Javier took your chin and moved your head to face him, he pressed his mouth on yours, his tongue hungry for your scent, invading your cavities and feeling your warmth rush through his body with the speed of light. Everything about your scent was intoxicating and consuming, and ever so addicting that he could barely find it in himself to stop.

But then his calloused hands found your breasts and oh–oh, shit.

That first squeeze, tantalizingly slow and powerful, took you out completely. You gasped, and you weren’t sure if it was Horacio’s warm breath in between your legs or Javier fondling your breasts, but you embraced the overwhelming effect both had on you. Javier squeezed again, and moved around to locate the sweet torture of his mouth onto your nipples, taking one in his mouth whilst his thumb moved over the other one, twisting it in between his fingers as he nibbled at your skin. His tongue left a glistening trail as he peppered kisses in between your breasts, moving up your sternum, collarbones and neck and focusing on one particular spot that seemed to drive you wild. So much so that you reached behind your back to grab a handful of his hair, pull him in closer however you could.

“Lay her down, Peña,” Carrillo cooed, and the man followed suit.

You saw the Colonel untuck his shirt and take it off while Javier kneeled on the bed and helped you lay down on it, the softness of the sheets embraced you and the coldness made you whimper softly.

It was a premiere for him to witness Javier Peña, of all people, being so submissive and attentive, but he had other matters to focus on at the moment. His mouth left your already glistening and plump lips to grab the bottle of wine, your eyes followed him as you felt Carrillo’s hands spread your legs open and kiss the inside of your legs again, Javier came back to the bed and kneeled next to you, his hand gripping the bottle and the other cupping your face, he smiled softly at you and took a sip from the bottle; you moaned when Carrillo’s hands worked to get you out of your lace panties and Javier leaned down to you, the hand that cupped your face moved to your chin and he opened your mouth with his thumb, letting the wine pour from his mouth to yours, the wine was warm and it tasted sweet, when you closed your mouth and swallowed, Javier’s thumb grazed your lips and you heard a hard pant next to you, you turned to see Carrillo’s lusted face, you gave him a soft smile and he all but threw himself to you, kissing your mound, you moaned again and Javier leaned back, bringing the chilled bottle closer to your body, letting the tip of it graze against your warm skin, between the cold sensation and Carrillo’s lips tasting you, you were about to scream, Javier looked at you, smirked and pour some of the wine all over your breasts and abdomen, immediately reaching down on your again to lick the liquid off. A bit of the wine had traveled down your abdomen to your lower belly and found its way into Carrillos mouth, the feeling of the cold wine and their tongues made you growl. You had two pairs of equally sinful and skilled lips teasing and licking deliciously well over your exposed skin, and you had half of mind to grab either one of them and get to business. You couldn’t recall the last time you felt so aroused, but it was all a masterful torture and all for a good time. If anyone else was allowed to have their downtime, why shouldn’t you?

It was somewhat futile to even attempt to please either one of the men in return; their own pleasure seemed to be revolving around yours and they were both doing such an incredible job out of it that you had a hard time trying to keep track of where did the waves of pleasure come from anymore. It was all one big tsunami of feelings, from overstimulation to lust and appreciation and love in some form.

Carrillo continued his ministrations while Javier licked the remains of the wine from your body, his tongue traveled to your sternum and he took a nipple on his mouth ever so briefly, then he stood up and quickly undressed, not bothering to be cool about it, he just threw his clothes to the floor while he looked at Horacio have the time of his life between your legs, you let out soft moans and whispers and while Javier took off his jeans he saw your hand grip Carrillo’s hair as your hips hatched against the Colonel’s face. You felt his tongue flicking your clit and he pushed a thick finger inside you, curling it around, building you up and throwing you off the cliff with the same force he had put you there. You came on his mouth with his name on yours.

As you laid on the bed, legs spread for Carrillo as he helped you ride off your orgasm, Javier kneeled back on the bed next to your face, his hand snaked its way around your neck, gently grabbing both sides and helping you take his erection in your mouth, which you were more than happy to do. You could tell he was somewhat tensed: he was doing his absolute best to control his motions and to keep it at a normal rhythm, but the more you involuntarily groaned as Carrillo began to glide his tongue across your slit once again, building up your second climax, the more Javier was slowly losing bits and pieces of himself. Within seconds, you could just tell you weren’t gonna last long, but neither would Javier as he picked up the face and jerked his hips forward more and more, thus obliging you to take more of him in. You couldn’t explain it, nor find any logic behind the action itself, but you swore you felt his release in Javier’s impatient thrusts and, sure enough, mere seconds later, he finally came, grunting as ropes of his seed dripped down your jaw.

Your moans returned when Carrillo added two fingers to his mouthy torture over your clit, and you felt like you could explode. Not long after that all-too familiar gut feeling, that almost persistent desire to burn, you came for a second time, eager to jerk your hips forward and meet as much as you could of Carrillo’s tongue, but this time, the man’s grip over your thighs was impossible to break. He held you in place ever so expertly and ate you out like you were his favorite five course meal, soaking up every ounce of juice that you provided him with.

You temporarily lost feeling in your arms as you tried to raise them to make at least Javier pay attention, but words also failed to leave your abused mouth.

“Que buena chica,” Carrillo said from somewhere down below. (What a good girl.)

Your brain didn’t register what he said properly. All you could feel was a fire so intense, so vivid, you nearly saw stars. And something told you that was only the beginning.

And you were proven right.

In the momentary lack of physical touch, you thought about the moment itself, having two of the strongest, most desirable men eager to please you–simultaneously, might you add–and the more you thought about it, the more it threw you off completely. Why? You weren’t really sure. Perhaps it was the idea in the back of your mind that you wouldn’t have thought yourself capable of that. Or them, really. The activity hadn’t been exactly on your to-do list over the past few years and yet now, you couldn’t have thought of a better way to figure out your feelings for them, and to spare time.

The freshly acquired ecstasy was not only enthralling, but efficient as well.

After your second orgasm at Horacio’s ministrations you saw him between your lusted, narrowed eyes, undress completely, Javier was next to you, trailing his fingers up and down your wet torso–wet with wine and his saliva, what a fucking thought– while the both of you saw Carrillo take the remains of his clothes off and took in his lean figure, Javier smirked when he saw him whole and thought to himself the things he would do to the man if he had the time.

Javier wrapped his arms around your waist and helped you roll over to the side to face him, licking his bottom lip in the process and made sure you watched as he did so. He had been eyeing you up and down the entire day, whether clothed or not, and every glance he threw you, ever so dark and desirable, filled with subtext and desire, made you weaker and weaker, just like Carrillo’s touches were.

You reached his face and took his lips in yours, his tongue slid inside your mouth and as he explored the insides and his hand grabbed fistfuls of your ass, you felt the bed shifting behind you, and another hand snaked from behind and found your breast, you were being pressed against and between two bodies and the wam of them was driving you insane, when Carrillo’s fingers played with your nipple you bucked your hips forward and you felt Javier’s erection graze at your lower belly. Javier moved his hand from your ass to your thigh and then he let it slide to your pussy, you bucked your hips backwards and you felt Carrillo’s erection graze at your ass.

“How are you still this wet, bonita?” Javier asked, while his fingers found themselves between your lips.

“Don’t you know the answer by now, Javi?” you muttered, feeling the way Carrillo’s mouth found your shoulders.

You glanced at him and Carrillo the same way Javier looked at you and you understood in an instant why he always preferred to be that way. It was enticing, addicting and sinful, just the way he was.

And by the looks of it, Colonel Horacio Carrillo was no saint either.

“How do you want this to go, chiquita?” Horacio asked behind you as you moved your leg up to allow Javier’s fingers to find a way inside you.

You sighed. Why was he asking you that question when you weren’t even sure something like this would happen? For a brief, brief second you wanted to hide, just grab your clothes and hide. But you found yourself sandwiched between the men that you most desired and you just couldn’t waste this opportunity for the life of you.

So you rummaged around your deepest, filthiest fantasies you’ve had when everything had just been a sinful dream, a product of your lascive thoughts giving into what you catalogued as your darkest secrets and desires and you found one you couldn’t stop think about after it had given you a stars–behind–the–eyes orgasm.

“I want both,” you muttered, feeling the way both men groaned at your sides, “both inside me, please.”

“You sure?” Javier asked, pulling out his fingers from your cunt and looking at the way they glistened, you nodded.

“Words, chiquita,” Horacio said and you turned to see him, he leaned down and stole a short, deep kiss.

“I’m a hundred percent sure,” you murmured against the Colonel’s lips.

“Let’s get you ready, then,” Javier whispered on your neck and you sighed when his fingers slid back into your slit, you closed your eyes when Horacio played your nipples around his fingers and then his hand roamed down your body, finding their way to your pussy.

“Déjame entrar,” Horacio said under his breath, Javier stopped moving his fingers inside you and you squeezed your eyes tighter when Carrillo slid two more fingers inside your cunt.

“Fu–fuck, fuck,” you gasped, Javier let open mouthed kisses around your face and the skin of your neck within reach while your walls tightened around their thick fingers.

“You okay?” Javier asked and you nodded a few times before your body relaxed and got used to the intrusion.

“Mo–move,” you pleaded, feeling Horacio’s mouth nibbling at your shoulder and your neck.

Javier and Horacio moved their fingers at the same time inside you, looking at each other as if marking a dancing pace. You didn’t know what to do with yourself as they moved in and out and curled their fingers in all directions inside you, making you moan and whimper and open up more for them as they somehow found an identical pace to torture you with.

“Eso, eso nena, lo estás haciendo muy bien,” Carrillo praised behind you, feeling the way your walls were giving into the attention and dilating around their fingers (That’s it baby, you’re doing great)

“Más,” you pleaded, rolling your hips against their hands “Más, más,”

They grinned at each other, Javier’s eyes landed on your face and took in the way your features quirked in pure pleasure. Their fingers moving at the same time, pacing in and out faster. Javier’s mouth landed on your shoulder and Carrillo only took in the lewd noise his and Javier’s fingers were making as they pulled in and out at a murdering pace.

“Oh, sh–shit,” you bit your lip and tried to hide your face inside the crook of Javier’s neck but Horacio pulled you away with his other hand.

“We wanna hear you, querida.” he whispered behind your ear, you shivered again at the feeling of his warm breath and then it became too much, their fingers were covered in your arousal as you spread your legs impossibly wider as your throat began growling and your hands landed on both of them, digging your nails on their flesh. Javier hissed against your shoulder and Carrillo bit the skin of your mouth, both of them throwing you together from the cliff and your body spasmed between them.

“Oh my god, oh shit, fuck!” you screamed between their bodies and they slowed their pace to help you ride down your climax “please, please, fuck me, please,” you let out, almost desperately, eager to feel the same with them inside you. They slid their fingers out of you and you shivered again.

Your body was already a mess, after three powerful orgasms you were panting for air, the only thing you wanted was them inside you, you wanted to feel every ridge and every vein of them, you wanted; you needed to cum around them both.

“What is taking you so long?” you opened your eyes, quite frustrated at the lack of attention to your bodies, but the sight that you took in was otherworldly.

Carrillo had his fingers, his covered–in–your–arousal fingers inside Javier’s mouth.

“Fuck,” you let out, dropping your head on the mattress, looking at the way Javier grabbed Horacio’s wrist to keep his hand on his mouth and lick them clean of you while Horacio’s deep gaze took Javier in with a smirk adorning his face.

Horacio pulled his fingers out with a soft pop and they both looked at you, panting and brushing a nipple with your fingers.

“Next time you’ll have to put on a show for me,” you teased.

“You’re ready?” Javier asked, leaning down to kiss your temple, you looked at Carrillo and smiled at him as he licked his fingers.

“Very,” you replied, softly, your voice was already hoarse because of the moaning and screaming they had pulled out of you, they got comfortable on each of your side and you took a deep breath when Horacio lifted your leg and hooked it on his hip.

Javier was the first one to tease your entrance with the dripping head of his cock, when you felt it sliding up and down your slit you gasped and as he pushed himself inside you you grabbed his arm and licked any part of his skin available for you.

“Oh my god,” you cried out softly.

Javier was having a hard time staying still when your walls were warm and wet around him, his hands roamed around your body as Carrillo lined himself with you and him as well and then he pushed.

“Holy fucking shit,” you had close your eyes at the feeling of Horacio making his way inside of you, you breathed and panted and tried so hard to relaxe but they were thicker than their fingers and your pussy was clenching already around them. Javier took your hand and you squeezed his as both of them bottomed up inside you.

Horacio put his hands over the entanglement of yours and Javi’s and the three of you gasped and panted until your body stopped squirming between them and your walls stopped closing themselves at the feeling of two thick cocks making their way inside.

Javier had to close his eyes as well when he felt how your cunt clenched him tight closer to Horacio and he felt himself throb inside you, when he opened his eyes he saw you, open mouthed gasps leaving your body as it got used to being that full, and then his eyes traveled to Horacio, that buried himself in the crook of your neck, he supposed he was feeling the same way as him, trapped in a oh–so–tight hole with him.

“Move, move, move,” you all but begged, the initial sting of being filled like that disappearing and being replaced with the darkest, deepest, hottest desire you had ever felt, “fu–fucking move already!”

Horacio smirked against the skin of your neck at your demand and moved slightly to look at Javier, who nodded once and then, murdering pleasure; Javier pulled out and as he was thrusting slowly back in, Horacio pulled out and moved in as Javier moved out and you gasped and the air in your lungs left you for the time being as your cunt was filled with the two men you wanted the most.

It was pleasure delivered in a delicious swing of two hips rocking back and forth, back and forth, back and forth into you, making you impossibly wetter, incredibly hornier, and way too lost in the haze to even care about anything else.

The way that they were fucking you was shameless, the noises were lewd and your moans invaded the room as soon as they picked up the pace and kept driving into you at the same pace but in different directions.

Four hands caressed your body, two sets of lips nibbled at your skin, two tongues tasted the salty sheet of sweat that had covered your body, two thick cocks used your body at their will, making you want to explode; it was an eager combination of feelings and sensations pulled out of the most sensual, lechery, degenerated dreams you could ever had.

“Harder, please, pleasepleaseplease,” you panted out, gripping any skin and limb your hands could find. Your hips started rolling and rolling and rolling with them as they thrusted and pounded inside you.

“Mierda,” Horacio gasped behind you, biting at your skin, making you whimper.

“You’re so fucking tight, so fu–fucking good, baby,” Javier cried out as your pussy clenched around them and you absentmindedly rolled your hips harder.

It was an entanglement of limbs and wet skin, mouths clashing against skin, hands gripping and grabbing available flesh, a swing of bodies and a symphony of licks, kisses, hums, gasps, pants, begs and praises.

“Shit, sh–shit,” you panted harder and clawed at Javier’s arm when you felt the well-familiar tug on your belly of an incoming orgasm, you hummed and moaned and you felt lips in your ear, licking and nibbling at your earlobe, “I’m so close, más,”

Javier gritted his teeth when you demanded more and angled his hips to pound inside harder, Horacio followed his lead, dropping his hand on Javier’s shoulder for leverage. Carrillo’s touch burned in Javier’s skin and he felt his body stiffen with the feeling of his second release.

“Por dios, querida, me estás matando.” Horacio cried out behind you, feeling as well his body falling from the cliff. (My god, you’re killing me)

Javier’s free hand slid through your wet, glistening skin and his finger circled your clit slowly, you screamed his name, your legs buckled and your entire body squirmed with the sea of sensations your body was feeling and flooding with.

“Cum inside me, please, please,” you panted again, feeling the way your legs started to shake as both of their thrust became erratic and Javier’s finger kept circling around your bundle of nerves you exploded around them, gushing out and soaking them as your orgasm made you scream both their names.

“Mierda, querida, mírate,” Horacio grunted before he gave into the lustfulness of it all and came inside you and around Javier.

Once Javi felt the warmness of Carrillo’s release and the way you soaked both of them and his hand, he locked his hips with yours and spilled himself inside as well, gasping out your name.

“Ohmyfuckinggod,” you let out as a sigh, feeling your legs tremble with the strength of your climax.

The three of you stayed like that, joined, for a while. As your bodies relaxed you finally opened your eyes and saw the way Horacio’s hand was resting on Javier’s shoulder, wrapping you as well between them. Both of them breathing heavily, eyes closed, recovering from whatever the hell you had done was called. You sighed and smiled to yourself. If it weren’t for the four orgasms you had and the way your cunt was throbbing after the abuse and dripping with their seed, you wouldn’t believe it was real at all.

“How was that, cariño?” Javier asked, grazing a hand up and down your arm.

“That was–magnificent,” you gushed, not sure how else to describe that positively euphoric experience, “I think–you two have worn me out.”

Horacio chuckled and moved your head to press a kiss to your forehead, and shifted to allow all three of you to lie somewhat comfortably under the covers. You whined when they pulled out of you, solely because at the loss of them, you felt empty.

“Rest now, querida, we’ll be here in the morning,” he whispered into your hair, and that was all the permission you needed.

“We should–” you brought a hand to your mouth to cover a massive yawn, “–do this again sometime.”

After that, it didn’t take long before you had succumbed to the tempting pull of sleep. Horacio sighed and glanced over your shoulder at Javier, who looked rather worn out himself. Tenderly, Horacio reached over and brushed aside a small strand of hair that had fallen in Javi’s face.

“So, same time next week, then?” Horacio asked, giving Javier a lazy smirk, which was returned in kind.

“Yeah,” Javier mumbled, turning over to drape his arm around your way and bury his face in your neck.

“Absolutely.”

let me know if you wanna be removed :)

pedrito's perma list: @northernpunk @pascalesque @sleep-tight1 @cheekygeek05 @bii-aan-ckaa @letaliabane @supernaturalgirl @metalarmsandmanbuns @asta-lily @alliterative-albatross @greeneyedblondie44 @missswriter @juletheghoul @pedro-pastel @agirllovespancakes @charlispersonallyhell @hopeevenonthisside @sherala007 @magpie-to-the-morning

dick aneurysm: @starlightmornings @mouthymandalorianalso @purplepascal042 @maharani-radha @pascalslittlebrat @mothandpidgeon @wyn-dixie @empress-palpat1ne @charnelhouse

Javi's babies: @pulplorrd

Priya’s permanent taglist: @captn-andor @cap-n-stuff-main @sarahjkl82-blog @banga-sama @revolution-starter @phoenixhalliwell @velia27 @cynic-spirit @leonieb @bootyliciousbilbo @panagiasikelia @mcrmarvelloki @stanfordscrush @spideysimpossiblegirl @salome-c @rosiefridayrogersunday @princess76179

Priya’s Javi taglist: @brujademente @walt-breslin @rubeskar

Priya’s Carrillo taglist: @melaniecraig80 @tropes-and-tales

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five-rivers · 3 years

Text

All These Scattered Gems

For Dannymay 2021 Day 4: Stars

“They can’t be real stars,” insisted Maddie, her voice tinny and static in Danny’s ear.

He paused, grimacing, and adjusted the frequency again. Something must have gotten knocked loose inside the Fenton Phones in the last fight he got into. “I didn’t say that was what they were,” he said, “I was just telling you what they look like. And they look like stars.”

Danny did tend to consider himself a bit of an expert when it came to whether or not something looked like a star. Astronomy was a special interest of his, after all.

(Despite the best efforts of both his parents and the doctors of the Far Frozen, efforts to decide whether or not he had a true, ghostly Obsession had been inconclusive. Danny was okay with that if he was being honest. Which he usually wasn’t.)

“Hm,” said Maddie. “That isn’t coming across very well in the video.”

“Mads, our video is half static that far from the portal.”

Maddie sighed. “Make sure you take pictures, sweetie.”

“I remember,” said Danny, who had forgotten. “The sky looks darker over there, too. It almost looks like real night. I wonder if someone did it on purpose?”

When Danny had first come clean to his parents about being half-ghost, he hadn’t really had any expectations that it would change his probable future. Which he had predicted to consist of a series of depressing, minimum wage jobs that he would keep losing due to ghost hunting.

His parents had something to say about that however, and although Danny had never really wanted to inherit Fentonworks or ghost hunting as a profession (ironic, he knew) he did like the exploration and science parts. Quite a bit, actually. And since he’d never be able to become an astronaut… Well. This was pretty good, too.

Especially since he was getting paid.

(All the extra equipment he had to bring with him to make forays into the Zone ‘experimentally useful’ was a bit of a drag, though. Literally, sometimes. The stuff was heavy.)

“Okay,” said Danny. “I’m going to get closer.”

The lights ahead of him really were starlike… but they were, as expected, much closer. The nearest of them stopped being pinpricks and started looking like tiny disks after just a few minutes of determined flight.

“Danny? Sweetie? You might want to slow down a little. Those speeds are rough on our sensors.”

Danny sighed, but complied.

Ghost cores were weird. Really weird. At least part of the weirdness was that, most of the time, they didn’t exist in either the Ghost Zone or ‘normal’ reality, but instead were tucked away in private self-generated pocket dimensions.

Ghost bodies were formed around the entrances to those pocket dimensions and would shift to accommodate the core that generated them, but usually didn’t actually house the core. It was a safety thing, and the reason ghosts could have their entire body destroyed only to pop up a few days later, perfectly fine.

Danny’s parents had been studying the phenomenon off and on, trying to compare it to ghostly lairs, which were also pocket dimensions. Or universes. The distinction was unclear. They’d been having trouble collecting data, however, as most ghosts would not blithely give such intimate information to ghost hunters, no matter how reformed they claimed to be.

After all, ghost cores were the equivalent of a ghost’s brain. One might even say their soul.

Danny was getting off track.

All this to say that Danny really should not have been able to physically feel his core.

He braked, ‘skidding’ to a stop.

“Danny?” said Maddie, sounding concerned. “Are you alright? Our instruments picked up a power spike…”

“I’m fine,” said Danny, pressing his fingers to his chest. Whatever he had felt was gone. “Just… a weird feeling.” He looked back up at the ‘stars.’ Some of them looked like little coins, now.

“How weird?”

“Like, I could have imagined it,” said Danny. “Timing is a bit strange, though, with that power surge. This might be a ‘Fisher Kingdom’ area.”

Some places in the Ghost Zone had such a strong feeling about how things should be that anyone or anything entering them was altered to fit. Some were generated by an actual ghost, but usually those ghosts just had very specific ideas about death and ghosts that didn’t quite mesh with the Zone at large. A few gave the impression that they had been carefully constructed and then more or less abandoned. Others didn’t seem to have any intelligence behind their existence, were random, almost natural.

Generally, the effects of Fisher Kingdoms were strictly physical, the average ghost’s core being safe in its aforementioned pocket, but even with that limitation, Fisher Kingdoms could be… difficult. Dangerous.

But they were also interesting. And Danny didn’t mind. He had the Ultimate Cheat Code when it came to dealing with Fisher Kingdoms. He could just turn human and float away. No problem. (In theory, anyway. In practice… Sometimes it was more complicated than that.)

“Alright,” said Maddie. “If you feel safe doing so, keep up your approach, but slowly. We want to monitor your vitals.”

Danny kept going, if at a greatly reduced pace.

His core pulsed again, and he stopped, hissing. This time, the sensation didn’t go away.

“Danny?”

“I’m okay,” he said. “I just…” He took a deep breath, feeling icy pressure on his lungs. “Oh, that’s weird.”

“What happened? Are you safe?”

“I think so. I think… I think this turned off my, uh, pocket dimension thing. You know, what my core goes in.” He blinked at his feet and the tips of his fingers, which were wisping away. The glow around his chest was bright and was becoming brighter. Something started beeping in his ear.

“Danny,” said Maddie, sounding alarmed. “That’s the stability alarm. Your numbers are dropping rapidly.”

Danny looked up, back at the not-stars. “I think I know what they are, now,” he said.

“What? Danny, you have to get out of there. Whatever is happening is seriously disrupting your ability to maintain your form.”

Danny brought his hand to touch the surface of his chest, which rippled as if made of water. The surface of his suit had started showing cracks. Even so, Danny was frozen in place by a thought:

Would it be so bad, to become a star?

His rings shuddered into life around him, forcibly and painfully returning him to human form. His heart stuttered at the ball of utter cold pressed against it. Every breath he took burned.

He cursed under his breath and followed his mother’s instructions, floating away from the field of false stars as quickly as he could. Despite how his core seemed to want to pull him back.

Eventually, the pull lessened.

“I guess,” said Danny, with extreme regret, “we should put that on the list of places I shouldn’t go.”

“Already there, kiddo,” said Jack.

“Come straight back,” said Maddie. “We need to give you a check, make sure there are no lasting effects.”

“Alright,” said Danny. “I’m on my way.”

Being a star… A shining beacon in the night…

It wouldn’t have been all that great, anyway, he was sure.

(He could settle for just chasing after them.)

#danny phantom #dannymay 2021 #dannymay #dannymay 2021 day 4: stars

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djjarins · 3 years

Text

pta and pb&j’s: first day (single dad! javier peña x f! teacher reader)

summary: single dad javi prepares his twins, Sophia and Lillie for their first day of kindergarten - finding it a little hard to let them go - meets their new teacher - who has some words of advice for him.

warnings: mentions of anxiety/javi's former job, single parenting stress and anxiety

a/n: this is the first part in my series, pta and pb&j’s! i’m so excited for this one, with the reader being a cute, young kindergarten teacher who has a huge crush on mr. peña. i’m not sure how many parts i’m going to do yet, but i know it’ll be a few. let me know if you wanna be tagged in upcoming parts, and as always reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated!!🤎

"Good morning my angels, its time to wake up," Javi whispers, gently shaking the arms of his twin daughters. Their two twin beds sit parallel to one another, separated by a small bedside table with a lamp, the small light illuminating the pink room. The room sits nice and tidy, except for a few stray dolls on the floor near a bin of other toys, but Javi can’t find himself to be mad about the small pile of Barbies.

Sitting gently on the edge of one of the beds, he makes sure to not knock over any of the meticulously organized stuffed animals spread across the fluffy comforter. Looking down, Javi sees in his younger daughter, Lillie’s arms sits the small, gray stuffed bunny rabbit he gave her and her sister the day they were born, the long floppy ears peaking out and hanging over her blankets.

Looking over to the other bed, he sees Sophia, the older of the twins, has the matching white bunny in her arms as well. He lets out a chuckle at his girls - they were heavy sleepers - quite the opposite of himself.

He always thought they’d come running to his room during a storm, but they always managed to make it soundly through the night, and that it was him who could never fall back asleep. He was jealous of them in that way, most nights not being able to sleep due to the racing thoughts in his mind. It was nothing to worry about, just normal things regarding his job here back home and anxiety over other things. Javi sighs at the sight of his baby daughters, hating that he has to wake them up.

"Girls, we can't be late for your first day of kindergarten!" The former DEA agent says softly, breaking out into a smile as his girls begin to open up their eyes, letting out small yawns before jumping up to wrap their small arms around their father, pulling him into a hug.

The stuffed bunnies drop to the side as Javi picks them up in his arms, swinging them around playfully, before placing them down and bringing his fingers to one of their sides, Lillie letting out loud giggles as he tickles her.

A few seconds later Javi drops his arms from Lillie's sides and switches to Sophia, her laughs echoing across the room as Lillie tries to “stop” her dad by lightly pushing at him, her laughter joining her younger sister’s. A moment later Javi jumps up to his feet and makes quick work of making his way over to their closest, picking up the uniform tops and skirts and bringing it over to the ends of both beds. He sets aside their backpacks, which the trio had packed the night before along with their lunches, making sure to place it near the door so they don’t forget it.

Turning back to face his daughters, he kneels down so he can be at eye level with them. “While you get dressed do you wanna pick out what braids you want me to do for you both?” he asks softly, nodding to the small American Girl Doll book on Lillie’s desk that features all different styles of braids and updo’s.

Javi prided himself on working through almost every style within the purple book, practicing on the girls or on one of their dolls when they are asleep or at daycare. Many nights have been spent following youtube tutorials leading up to the first week of school - what can he say, he wants to get this right. He can proudly now say that he has mastered the art of braiding.

Lillie’s voice snaps him back to reality. “Ok dad,” she smiles, moving to grab a jacket from her dresser, “can you pretty please make us pancakes?” Sophia asks, flashing her signature “puppy dog eyes” which make her father weak every time.

At 5 years old, they already have him wrapped around their fingers. He can’t even imagine what it will be like when they get older.

"Of course I can!" Javi laughs, leaning his hand down to playfully ruffle at both of their hairs. "Anything for my princesses.”

Walking out of their room, Javi makes his way down the hallway and the stairs towards the kitchen, quickly looking at the time and making a mental note of when to leave. He doesn’t want to be known as the dad who brought his kids to school late on the first day. He’s heard that some of the moms at this school can be a little gossipy, and that’s the last thing he needs right now.

Once in the kitchen, Javi reaches up into the cabinets and grabs the dry ingredients and a bowl to start up the pancake mixture. Opening up the fridge, he grabs the wet ingredients and some strawberries to serve on the side.

But as he starts his prep work, Javi can't stop the feelings of nervousness from creeping in.

It has nothing to do with the anxiety he still has from his previous job, some nights waking up suddenly when remembering the things he saw, the things he did.

Its not that.

It’s that his baby girls are growing up right before his eyes.

Javi has been on his own with Lillie and Sophia their entire lives, their birth mother exiting the picture shortly after they were born.

Months of preparing for the twin’s arrival, painting the nursery - what color to pick? is pink to overused, what about yellow? It took nearly 4 trips to the local paint store to pick a color. Buying clothes, doing research, going to birthing classes - none of it could prepare him to do this all by himself.

He was scared to be a father, hell, being a single father seemed even scarier, but the minute he held his baby girls in his arms, Javi swore that everything felt right in the world.

The two rested easy in his arms, just hours old and it brought Javi to tears. They were just so tiny and innocent, and at first he struggled a bit - with the person he was in the past - did he deserve to have such sweet angels in his life?

But his girls have showed him that he can have a new start. That he was meant to be a father, a protector. And he was a natural.

Snapping out of his thoughts, he starts mixing the batter before pouring several drops into the pan rested on the stovetop, a faint simmering sound coming from the butter's reaction to the heat. The older man cuts up the strawberries into quarters and starts placing them into two small bowls when he hears the distinct sound of two pairs of shoes clomping down the staircase.

Quickly turning around, Javi is met by the sight of his two giggling daughters running towards him, opening his arms wide to pull them into his embrace as they finally reach them. Holding them close to his chest for a moment, he almost doesn't want to let go. He knows that his girls are growing up and that he can't do anything about it, but he can't even begin to think about them growing up and leaving him without his heart breaking.

Pulling away, he asks the girls about the hairstyles they chose while he flips the pancakes, french braids being chosen as usual. Javi uses the spatula to plate up the panckaes and makes sure both girls get their bowl of strawberries before grabbing one of the many colorful combs around the house and parting Sophie's hair for the braids.

The two girls giggle and talk about how excited they are for their first day as their dad skillfully styles their hair, making sure to use elastics that he knows won't tangle into their hair when they take the braids out.

As the girls finish up their breakfast, Javi finishes off Lillie's braids before brewing up a pot of coffee, knowing he's going to need it to get through the day. He gently directs the girls to go get their things so they can head out, reaching up into one of the cabinets to grab a travel mug.

As the girls scurry away to their room to grab their bags, Javi brings their lunches out of the fridge and takes two nearbye napkins and a pen and quickly scrawls down a little heart on each one before slidding them into each of their pink lunchboxes.

"Lets go Dad!" Sophia chuckles, leading her sister back down the stairs and over to the kicthen, reaching up to grab at the two lunchboxes, "is it time to go?"

Javi feels a smile play at his lips, "Yes honey, its time for us to go," he responds, grabbing his travel mug and walking with his girls out the front door, making sure to turn and lock it before unlocking his car and helping the girls into their carseats.

Once seated in the drivers seat, Javi looks up at his rear view mirror and sees his two baby girls smiling up at him - a sight that he never gets tired of - and pulls out of the driveway.

“Let’s go honey bunnies,” Javi says playfully, the nickname one he’s had for the twins since they were in diapers.

He gets out of his parked car and heads to the backseat, reaching in and unbuckling the girls from their car seats and helping them down to the ground, making sure to hand them their jackets, backpacks and lunchboxes before extending his hands for them to hold onto.

Feeling his daughters grip his fingers, he helps walk them across the parking lot and inside the school, stopping in the main office to sign himself in as a visitor and put on a name tag before walking down the hallway to the kindergarten wing.

The trio passes several brightly colored murals on the walls, Lillie pointing out her favorite animals on the one nearest to them as they make their way further down the hallway, coming to a stop outside of the classroom. Giving the girls’ hands a small squeeze, he tells them it’s time before opening the door.

The first thing Javi notices is how comfortable the classroom feels.

He sees a big comfortable rug in the front of the room near the whiteboard, a few of the twin’s new classmates sitting on it with some books as other kids play at their desks. The room is decorated with neutral colors and has several big cushions spread across the floor, almost like the cushions the girls have in their playroom at home.

Around the room the desks are organized in little groups, each with a label of the student’s names written in delicate cursive, a small water bottle and a snack already placed on the desk.

Javi doesn’t notice the two girls letting go of his hands and running off to find their desks, instead looking at the front of the classroom and seeing the “welcome” message written on the board, welcoming both students and parents to their first day of kindergarten. Javi feels a smile play at his lips at the “classroom mascot” at the front of the room, a small green stuffed chameleon that he would recognize anywhere, pascal, from his daughters’ favorite movie tangled.

The girls were going to love this teacher.

Just as he turns to tell the girls, he bumps into someone behind him.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking!” Javi exclaims, his eyes widening when he realizes he just knocked down the poor woman behind him. Looking down, he sees the you look up at him with a smile, which causes him to raise an eyebrow.

“It’s okay, don’t worry!” he hears you exclaim, watching as you brush the pant legs of your brown corduroy overalls off, “I work with kindergartners so i’m used to things like this.” you laugh, reaching out to take Javi’s extended hand and stand back up.

Javi feels like an idiot, he knocked over his girls’ teacher.

Once in your feet, you introduce yourself to him, your name sounding like honey coming from your lips. Feeling a small bit of butterflies in his stomach, Javi coughs nervously before introducing himself, pointing over to his girls seated over at their desks and telling you they are his babies.

“Aw they are so precious!” You smile, taking a look and seeing them talk to some of their desk mates, “I made sure to sit them together, I know how scary it can be on your first day of school, and I figured sitting them together might put them at ease,” you say softly, a smile pulling at your lips at the sight of your new students.

Javi feels a bit of weight has been taken off of his shoulders - he was worried the girls might even be in separate classrooms - something they had never had before - but he knows he’s lucky to have them stay together. He looks over at his daughters with a smile before turning back to you, the smile on your face contagious.

“Thank you,” he says appreciatively, “I was worried about them - I’m still worried i’m not going to lie,” he laughs nervously, looking down at his feet for a moment as a flush of embarrassment washes over him like a tidal wave.

You tilt your head at him and nod, “It’s normal to be nervous Mr. Peña,” you start, reaching out your hand to rest on his arm as he looks back up at you, chocolate eyes locked on yours, “this is a big step for the three of you. Getting here and dropping them off is the hardest part I promise you, your girls are in good hands.”

Javi nods along with your words, finding your tone and sentiments calming to him, the warm flush of embarrassment across his body beginning to fade away.

“I’m not one of those helicopter parents,” he laughs, “but I worry about them, it’s just me and I’m scared to be away from them.”

Javi doesn’t miss the way your face falls after his small joke, taking in the real information in his statement. You nod gently squeeze his arm before pulling your hand away. “I understand Mr. Peña, I know how hard this is for you. I promise you that i’ll take care of your girls, and if anything happens or if they miss you too much, i’ll give you a call and you can come right back.”

Javi feels like he could cry. What did he do to deserve such a nice teacher.

“Is that okay Mr. Peña?” you ask, your head tilting to the side as a few more students and parents trickle into the classroom.

“Javi, you can call me Javi,” he says, watching as your smile returns.

“Okay Javi, I look forwards to getting to know you better. I’ll see you this afternoon for pick up.” you smile, giving him a nod before walking away to welcome your new students.

Javi watches with a smile as you walk over to the tables where his girls are and bend down to introduce yourself and he hears the way you compliment their braids, to which Lillie points his way and says “daddy did these braids!” Looking up at Javi, you give him a big smile before turning back to the girls and continuing conversation with their desk mates, the butterflies in Javi’s stomach multiplying by the second.

God he was so screwed.

taglist: @salome-c @marydjarin @jasterslegacy @hnt-escape @vonschweetz @darnitdraco @theorganasolo @dinoflower @pedro4ever @rebel-fanfare

#AHHH i hope y’all like it!#pta and pb&j's #javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #single dad! javi #single dad! javier peña #javier peña series #my writing #pedro pascal characters x reader #pedro pascal characters #javier peña fanfic #javier peña writing

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pearl-blue-musings · 3 years

Text

Never Been Kissed: EraserMic

HI WELCOME TO SAD BOI HOURS

so i didn’t technically have an idea for them but yall know how the brain be sometimes....

This will be longer than some of the other ones because SAD and gets a little steamy at the end so I might make a smutty part to get better at writing smut who knows

Warnings: language, suggestive content, 18+ to be safe, also angst whoops

Pairing: EraserMic x fem!reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To say you were surprised is an understatement. You figured your two best friends wouldn’t be spending their New Years Eve with you in your lonely apartment eating pizza and watching crazy countdown shows.

And yet, here you were. Snuggled in between them with your head on the stoic and quiet dark haired man, laughing at whatever joke the loud blond squawked during a commercial break. To you, this was bliss; just a woman with her two male best friends.

Two best friends who were in love with each other and had been for awhile.

Two best friends that you were also in love with.

But you did as you normally do: squash them down into nothingness, trapping them in a locked box with no means of finding the key.

You had met the duo as a transfer student in your third year at U.A. Since Hizashi was better with English, he was your guide and helper for the first couple of weeks helping you get adjusted to life and catching you up on things you might’ve missed. You can never forget the way his eyes lit up at you upon first glance. His presence was overwhelming but nary in a bad way. He was overwhelmingly sweet and patient with you, despite his enormous personality.

In time you met Aizawa, his counterpart, the Yin to his Yang. Where Hizashi was large, he was small. Where Aizawa would ponder his thoughts, the blond would blurt them out. They really were perfect together and somehow you had entered into their perfect world.

It was no wonder you had developed feelings and fast.

They welcomed you when no one would. Looked after you when you were stressed, the butt of a joke, or were missing home. They were always there, always by your side.

So why did it hurt so much when you found them together?

You hadn’t meant to arrive at his house early for your study session, but you were in such a good mood! Were you thinking of confessing? Maybe. But that all went away when you turned the corner too early. There they were, your two best friends kissing in the most passionate way imaginable.

And you just watched.

How had you not known? Of course you had known, they were perfect for each other. All you did was complicate the narrative of their life. You knew about the friend they had lost almost a year ago so you understood their close ties even more now. They found solace in each other. And who were you? Some new foreign transfer student stupidly and hopelessly in love with the two guys who gave you attention and the time of day?

You only watched seconds longer for them to break apart and then peck each other on the lips again. You hear Hizashi whisper, “Do you think we should tell her?”

Aizawa sigh’s, “Only if you want to. I know how much you care about her.”

You didn’t dare listen to the rest of their conversation as you turned heel and ran. Tears beginning to cloud your vision as you run back to your place. Once you got your breath and quirk under control, you had sent them both a text saying that something had come up. For now, it was enough for them and for you.

You began to avoid them for a few weeks, forcing yourself to move on and bury your feelings deeper. You had resided to being the third wheel, the one that’s always left out, the black sheep, the odd one out; as if that hadn’t been your life before so it wasn’t anything new. What had shocked you one day as the lunch bell rang, was a pale hand grabbing onto your uniform.

“Hizashi is worried about you.”

You couldn’t meet his gaze.

“I’m worried about you. You’ve been avoiding us.”

You conjure up a quick lie that doesn’t get past the observant student. “Sorry, I’ve been really try to focus more on school and graduation and trying to find my own identity. Having to make up internship time while getting a provisional license has taken up most of my time.”

Aizawa was unconvinced but played along. “I get it. Talk to us when you can, okay?”

You only nod and kept your head down to avoid his knowing gaze. You had walked away just in time for a tear to fall, and for you to run into the other person from the dynamic duo.

“You’re lying to us, princess,” Hizashi says surprisingly low. “What’s wrong?”

Soon you were joined by his partner and had both of them boring into you. Well it was better tell a half truth, not like they needed to know.

“Sorry you guys,” you mumble. “I’ve been really stressed with all i have to do to graduate with you all. I didn’t wanna burden you with that.”

And my unresolved feelings

“Is that all?! You had us worried sick! Don’t keep us out like that okay? Ya dig?”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread onto your lips at his usual language. “Yeah,” you giggle, “I’m sorry. I promise I’ll tell you two everything.”

“Speaking of truths,” Aizawa interrupts, “there’s something we’ve been meaning to tell you.”

“You’re dating, I know. I wanted to give you two space so...”

Lime green eyes widen and his jaw dropped. “You knew?! Is it that obvious??”

You full on laughed at that. “It kinda is. You two are perfect for each other.”

Ever since the unveiling of particular truths the three of you were always close. You didn’t always feel like a third wheel to their relationship but all of you were open books to each other. Except about your feelings; that is a secret you are willing to take to your grave.

It was only ten minutes until midnight and the drinks had finally slowed from their free flowing. The three of you enjoyed a couple drinking games of watching the different countdowns and by this point, you were drunk. You had noticed the time and lifted your head from Shouta’s shoulder and began to get up.

“Hey you, why are you moving?”

You had paused and were halfway standing when those almond eyes bore into yours. “Oh, well it’s, it’s almost midnight. Ion wanna get in the way of your kiss so I’ll, I will move.”

The couple exchange a glance, a look on their faces one you had never seen before then back to you. You don’t pick up on it and continue to stand.

“(Y/n)...it’s a stupid thing it doesn’t-”

“I’ll get the champagne. Sham. Pain. Sham pahgney. Wait there.”

The two men on the floor remain in their same spots. Hizashi trying not to chortle too much at your pronouncing of champagne and Aizawa trying to figure your mood. He never thought anything was awkward between the three of you, but lately it had begun to be. He’d find himself wondering what you were doing or how it would be nice to cuddle you in his sleeping bag. Even Hizashi doesn’t get sleeping bag rights.

And Hizashi can act aloof and unaware, but he’s been having urges for you in a way that he thought he had gotten rid of. He had told Shouta back in U.A. but the first time he saw you he wanted to believe in love at first sight but he was already with him by then. Why? He already loved someone, why did he still feel incomplete?

As much as they loved you showering them in compliments that they were perfect for each other, the couple had always felt empty. But that feeling would change when you were around. How were they to tell you how they really felt? It should be obvious how much they care and love you, they each cancelled their radio show and patrol for the evening to be with you. Why couldn’t you see?

You had returned with three champagne flutes filled with the golden bubbly drink. You frown a little that they hadn’t moved, so you sat down and handed them their drinks. The only sound that was heard between the trio was the announcement of the final five minutes of the year. You rested your head against the couch and deeply exhaled.

“(Y/n),” Shouta starts, “are you okay?”

“Yeah dove! It looks like you were crying! Talk to us!”

Your head quickly snaps up and you take your empty hand to touch your face. Fuck, you had been crying. When did that happen?

“Oh you two,” you sniffle out while wiping your face. “It’s nothing, nothing! I was remembering my, uh, ex and how we were supposed to kiss at midnight and I guess I got sad. It’s nothing.”

“He wasn’t worth your time, ya dig? You’re beautiful!”

“You can do better. He didn’t treat you right.”

It seems that they both spoke at the same time, making the three of you break into laughter. But once you take in their words, you begin to sober up slightly. Did they really mean it? There’s no way, you need to keep those feelings locked up. Suddenly the flood works were opened.

Hizashi is the first to wrap an arm around you. “(Y/n) princess. Talk to us.”

Lock it up, bury it deeper.

“Like I said, my ex. I was finally going to get my New Years kiss but it’s not gonna happen.”

Throw away the key.

“Dumb right? I’ve never had a New Years kiss and that’s what’s got me so upset.”

They can never know.

And now there’s only 30 seconds left of the year and you’ve already come up with a resolution. Let them go. Let go of your feelings for your two best friends. You had started that resolution earlier in the year with a new boyfriend but he had dumped you at the beginning of December. He claimed that your heart wasn’t in it and that you didn’t love him. You did, you just happened to love two other men too. That’s how it is.

“It’s not dumb, Kitten. You have a right to be sad.”

The timer began to dwindle from 10. You hadn’t realized how your tears were being wiped away from both sides of your face. All three of you had abandoned your drinks in exchange for this moment. Your cheeks were warm but not from the alcohol. You began to smell two distinct scents overcoming you as you began to feel them come closer into your space.

Don’t let them know, and let them go.

“Happy New Year!”

You had barely heard the announcer say those words when you felt two sets of lips on your cheeks. This is all you had ever wanted but you couldn’t stop crying when they didn’t stop touching and caressing you.

“Please stop,” you whimper out as you feel yourself being pulled in one direction.

You meet lime green irises as he holds your chin. “No, we won’t. Fuck, can’t you see how much we love you?” The blond silences your rebuttal by kissing your lips in a way you had only dreamed of. A different set of hands had rested themselves underneath you sweater and was feeling all of your skin, reaching the front of your bra.

When you part for air panting, your eyebrows furrow. “I don’t, I don’t understand. Please don’t hurt me anymore. I, I mean... How long have you known?”

You’re turned around to face Shouta and his dilated pupils. “We’ve always known about our feelings for you. We were waiting for you to see how much we love you.” He pecks your lips lightly.

“You love me?”

Their words and actions are incredible to you right now. But you can’t think clearly as Aizawa cups your face to clear it of more tears as he affectionately places his lips on yours, kissing some of your tears and hurt away.

Aizawa nods into your kiss and pulls back, noticing a string of saliva connecting your plump lips to his. “We have, for a while now.”

“We realized our feelings for you a year after we had all graduated,” Hizashi intercepts. He takes the two of you up onto the couch and places you in his lap comfortably. “Well, I knew I liked you from the moment I met you! And I think for Shou it was when you didn’t speak to us for a few weeks. But then,” he stops to kiss your cheek and then trail down to the corner of your lips, “after you had gotten hurt as a sidekick and were severely injured,” his hand draws circles on your thigh, “we realized we didn’t know what to do if you weren’t around, ya know?” He finishes with a kiss.

You pull away, “But that was five years ago?” You feel the couch dip behind you as Aizawa takes your free hand and interlocks it with his, giving you comforting rubs. But he also takes your hands closer to his crotch. He’s hard? “You kept dating shitty guys.”

“Yeah! To try to get over you!” You cover your face in your hands as you begin to remember the people you had dated and how they didn’t compare to the two men beside you right now. You didn’t want to admit it, but you were starting to get the feeling that they had some more plans in mind for your new year start, considering one was already hard and the other hadn’t stopped touching you. The touches went from friendly to lust filled in mere seconds.

“Listener, baby girl I gotta know. Why did you really stop talking to us back then?” the blond pinches your thigh and moves his hand closer and closer to your heat making your heart beat race.

“I, hah, I caught you two.”

The pair stops and looks to you.

“Kissing. Before one of our study sessions. I was heartbroken. I overheard part of the conversation but I ran away crying.”

Aizawa catches your neck and you end up meeting his lips again, as another pair trail up and down your neck. “Kitten, if you had staid longer you would have heard us talk about maybe opening it up to you. It was his idea since he caught feels first.”

The man at your neck whines and bites down, eliciting a moan from you as he pouts at his lover. “Don’t put this on me! You wanted to include her too but you were too chicken to admit your feelings.”

“Guys...”

Aizawa runs his hand down to your ass and gives it a tight squeeze. Your lips involuntarily open and he prods his tongue inside your mouth. Your hands find purchase in his shirt, finding some sort of stability. From how this was going, you weren’t going to be able to walk tomorrow.

Both men look up to you with love in their eyes and hearts and you smile fondly at them both.

“(Y/n),” Hizashi breathes, “we love you so much.”

“I love you guys too.”

Aizawa grunts and mumbles out,

“Let us show you how much we love you, okay Kitten?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@cupcake-rogue

#my writing #i did the thing #never been kissed #erasermic #erasermic x reader #aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta #hizashi yamada x reader #yamada hizashi x reader #hizashi yamada #present mic x reader #eraserhead x reader #bnha x reader #bnha reader insert #mha x reader #present mic x fem!reader #aizawa x female reader #erasermic x fem!reader

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jamespotterthefirst · 3 years

Note

Hi Bree! I enjoyed reading your headcannon of L&E's children! It was such a fun read, I'm hooked with their family life 🥰 Because of this, I got inspired to come up with a Q&A for the kiddos. The interview is set 12 years after Lilac & Ethan became new parents. You will be answering as the AllenSey kids (with special appearances of Lilac & Ethan, as well). Hope you enjoy 'em! x

—

For Jonah, Dolores, Jasmine & Violet:

• If someone gave you $100 what would you do with it?

• If you could change any rule, which one would it be?

• Where is your favorite place to go on vacation?

• Most likely to hide a stray pet?

• Most likely to tell a lie to get out of trouble?

• Most likely to steal their sibling's secret stash (food/toys/new stuff/etc.)?

• What do your mum & dad do in their free time?

• What is the one thing mum & dad is not good at?

• What do you admire most about mummy & daddy?

🧡

For Lilac & Ethan:

• What made you laugh today?

• Did someone get in trouble recently? If so, what happened?

• What are the hardest & easiest parts about parenting?

• What are the unexpected perks of parenthood?

• What advice would you give to younger versions of yourselves when you've just became new parents?

THIS IS THE BEST THING EVER THOUGH? I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU THANK YOU

For context, Jonah is 12, Dolores 9, and Violet and Jasmine are 6

For Jonah, Dolores, Jasmine & Violet:

• If someone gave you $100 what would you do with it?

Jasmine: Squishies!

Dolores: Yeah, so you'll stop stealing mine.

Jasmine: That was Violet.

Violet: I gave them back.

Dolores: After Minnie destroyed them.

Jonah: I would invest it.

Jasmine: What's ingest?

Jonah: Invest, like how Dad told us? That's why we have the beach house in Cape Cod?

Jasmine: I thought we had that because Dad owns the hospital?

Violet: Or because Mom is famous?

Jonah: *sighs* No, they double their money through compound interest when they invest.

Sisters: *stare blankly*

Jonah: Remember? When he sat us down that one time and explained the Rule of 72? If we take 72 and divide it by the annual interest rate, then we get the amount of years those $100 will double. So if I invest it at a rate of 5%, it will take 14 years to double.

Violet: ...

Jasmine: ...

Dolores: ... So you will be *counts with her fingers* 26 and have $200?

Jonah: Exactly.

Jasmine: *horrified* No, thank you. I want my money right now.

Jonah: If you invest--

Jasmine: I'm here for a good time, not a long time, big bro.

• If you could change any rule, which one would it be?

Dolores: The "no electronics after dinner" rule. I want to play Roblox with my friends before bed.

Jonah: I would change the "if you don't know how to operate it, leave it alone." Sometimes I want to break things apart and put them back together but Mom won't let me.

Violet: Leaving Jenner out in the yard during dinner is cruel. He's part of the family. He should be inside with us.

Dolores: Dad only made up that rule because you feed him half of your dinner.

Violet: Because he's a growing boy! He needs food.

Jasmine: I would change the "treat people and property with kindness or respect" rule. Sometimes I just want to kick a toy of my way after a long day--

Lilac: *throws her "the look" from the distance*

Jasmine: *falls silent*

• Where is your favorite place to go on vacation?

Jonah: Providence with Grandpa Alan. He always takes us to the zoo or WaterFire. It's so much fun.

Dolores: California with abuelitos and tia Laurel. They take us to Disneyland every time!

Jasmine: Not fair! Last time we went, we couldn't get on any rides.

Dolores: Because you two are literal babies?

Jasmine: At least I don't sound like one.

Violet: Or smell like one.

• Most likely to hide a stray pet?

*All of the siblings point at Dolores in unison*

Jasmine: She hid Minnie from Mom and Dad last year for a good week before they found out.

Jonah: And convinced them to let us keep her.

Violet: Dad isn't convinced yet.

Dolores: They're becoming friends! Minnie let him pet her for like two seconds the other day. Before she bit him. It was so funny.

• Most likely to tell a lie to get out of trouble?

*All of them point at Jasmine*

Jasmine: What? Dad said it reminds him of mom. He said she can talk her way out of getting arrested.

Jonah: Out of getting a ticket. They're different.

Dolores: Oh yeah, because the Policeman liked mom. Liked liked her.

Jasmine: Dad was not happy about that.

• Most likely to steal their sibling's secret stash (food/toys/new stuff/etc.)?

*They all point at Violet*

Violet: I give it back!

Jonah: After Mom makes you.

Jasmine: Or after Jenner, Minnie, or you break them.

Dolores: Yeah, Violent doesn't know her own strength.

• What do your mum & dad do in their free time?

Dolores: They love to drop us off at Aunt Sienna's and disappear all night.

Jasmine: We don't mind though because she always makes us the best chocolate chip cookies ever.

Violet: I like going to Uncle Elijah's. His video games are so cool.

Jonah: I like it at Uncle Bryce's. One time, he let me break their toaster apart and showed me how to put it back together.

Dolores: Yeah, Mom was not a fan of that.

• What is the one thing mum & dad is not good at?

Dolores: Dad is not a good liar.

*They all agree*

Jonah: I remember the time Jenner ripped the boots Tia Laurel had given Mom. He told us not to say anything.

Jasmine: Oh yeah, he said Mom wouldn't even notice.

Dolores: But then as soon as she got home, he panicked and asked her what size shoe she was. Then told her he was going to the store to buy something really quick.

Jonah: Mom figured it out right away.

• What do you admire most about mummy & daddy?

Dolores: That they're doctors.

Jonah: That they save lives.

Jasmine: That they own the hospital.

Violet: That they're famous.

🧡

For Lilac & Ethan:

• What made you laugh today?

Lilac: Probably Jonah explaining the Rule of 72 to his sisters.

Ethan: *proudly* Definitely. And the girls having none of it.

Lilac: Imagine what they'll say when they find out you once drew a one dollar salary.

Ethan: I will never live it down. I already get enough taunting from you. I'd never survive it if all four of them join in.

• Did someone get in trouble recently? If so, what happened?

Lilac: *nods solemnly* The usual suspects.

Ethan: Dolores and Jasmine.

Lilac: Jasmine somehow hacked into her Roblox account and deleted all her friends. It was a bloodbath.

• What are the hardest & easiest parts about parenting?

Ethan: Figuring out what the hell is Roblox?

Ethan: It's a delicate balance that is achieved through fairness and consistency.

Lilac: *laughing* This is why I had to take care of that incident.

Lilac: The hardest part of parenting is finding a balance between being a disciplinarian but also someone they can approach and trust. It's terrifying to think that in holding them accountable when they make a mistake, you risk them resenting you.

Lilac: The best part is definitely watching them become their own person, with distinct interests and personalities.

Ethan: Absolutely.

• What are the unexpected perks of parenthood?

Ethan: Having four extra pairs of hands to do chores around the house.

Lilac: *laughs and smacks his arm*

Ethan: *raising his brows at her* Don't tell me you don't enjoy not having to worry about dishes for the next 12 years?

Lilac: *scrunches nose* You're right. I don't miss those. It's no wonder you finally listened to my argument that the dishwasher wasn't the best way to get them clean.

Ethan: That's because we've acquired four little dish washers since.

• What advice would you give to younger versions of yourselves when you've just became new parents?

Lilac: Just try your best.

Ethan: Don't say "and have fun."

Lilac: What? It's true!

Ethan: My advice to our younger selves would be: "However scared or anxious you are feeling right now, I promise you... It's ten times worse."

Dr. Ramsey is just being overdramatic with the last one. He loves being a dad. OMG this was so fun! Thank you so much, my love!

#Allensey Family #ethan ramsey #Ethan x MC #Ethan x Lilac #Lilac Allende #You guys I will answer the rest in the coming days! I'm so slow with these #Long post

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minor-solemnity · 3 years

Text

Invention and Intrigue pt.2

Tag List: @jinxqsu @cakesarecute @naps-and-lemons @mainlynonsense @riddles-wifey

He’s looking at you as though he knows you, as though he sees something familiar in you. The thought makes the hairs on the back of your arms stand on end. He reaches out, cups your cheek gently and then lets his hand drop to his side. “Show me the spell.”

You spend the next week swinging wildly between panic and resignation. You can’t figure out why Riddle wouldn’t go to the Headmaster - he’s Head Boy. As far as you’re aware, he’s never broken a rule in his entire academic career and it’s no secret the kind of company he keeps. So why on earth would he allow you to get away with what you’ve done? It’s this question that sends you half-mad with paranoia and anxiety. You see Lestrange glowering at you whenever you pass him and there’s a large part of you that’s beginning to suspect that Riddle hasn’t told any of the professors because he and Lestrange are planning something far worse than expulsion for you. Revenge is the only explanation you can think of.

Melanie, bless her, remains blissfully unaware of the fact that you’re spiralling into a vortex of paranoia and worry. She chats happily to you over breakfast on Thursday morning about George Warrington, about how he’s been a perfect gentleman so far. He pulls her chair out for her in the lessons they share together, offers her his cloak when she complains about the cold, laughs at her jokes even when they’re not funny. You smile and nod and hum your happiness for her in all the right places but your eyes remain fixed on the Slytherin table across from you.

You absently take a sip of your tea and almost spit it back out when Riddle suddenly looks up from his breakfast and meets your eye, as though he knew you’d been watching him this whole time. He cocks his head to the side and even from this distance you can see the amused smirk playing on his lips. He raises his glass up and inclines his head slightly in a mock toast. A toast to what? Your idiocy for cursing Lestrange in public? The knowledge he has over you? Your impending demise? He takes a long sip of his drink and you don’t want to notice (but do anyway) the elegant column of his neck, the shift in his throat as he swallows. He maintains eye contact and smirks, a thumb rising to dab at his mouth. You’re gaze snaps to your porridge in front of you and ignore the way your cheeks feel suddenly hot.

“Are you alright? You look rather flushed,” Melanie asks, finally halting her increasingly giddy descriptions of George’s skill with his broom to look at you quizzically.

“Mmm, fine. Just, you know tired. Dreading Herbology. The usual.” She purses her lips in a way that suggests she doesn’t quite believe you but you’re saved from having to answer any of her questions when George makes an appearance next to him. She beams up at him and you watch with mild nausea as he kisses her on the mouth. You’re no prude by any means, but watching your best friend and her new beau learn the crevices of each others’ mouths before nine o’clock is a little much. You cough a little pointedly but Melanie is evidently too distracted to notice so, with a roll of your eyes, you grab your satchel and head for the exit.

You’ve still got another half an hour before Herbology starts but it’s a nice day so you settle down on one of the stone benches by the greenhouses and pull out the book you’ve been reading. It’s a deceptively thin, nondescript text and you’ve read it cover-to-cover at least three times already. Still, it’s one of the most useful books you’ve found on breaking down spell components to their most fundamental parts. You’re so engrossed in your reading that you don’t acknowledge the person who has just sat down beside you.

A flash of gold and onyx obscures the print and Riddle is plucking the book from your hands. “Excuse me, I was reading that,” You squawk, making a grabbing motion to retrieve your book. Riddle looks entirely unperturbed, he’s lounging out on the stone bench, long legs stretched out in front of him. He looks positively regal. He ignores you as his eyes flick rapidly over the page you’d just been reading. “Do you mind?” And maybe it isn’t particularly smart of you to snap at him the way you are. He has more than enough ammunition against you to ruin your life and the fact that he hasn’t yet only serves to make you warier of him. But you hate people touching your things. It reminds you too much of all the times in your first few years at Hogwarts when little snot-nosed purebloods had taunted you by messing with your things.

“Not particularly, no,” He says at last and you don’t like the amusement that laces his voice. You don’t like it one bit. It reminds you that when you peel back the layers of good manners and cultivated gentility, Tom Riddle is just as snakelike as the rest of his house. “This is an interesting choice,” He continues as if he’s oblivious to your less than charitable feelings towards him. “Though perhaps less surprising considering your, ah, extracurricular pursuits, no?” He hums in amusement at the shuddering sigh that escapes you.

“Speaking of those pursuits, I’d like it if you would meet me after dinner tonight. Eight o’clock by the statue of Artemisia Lufkin.” The way he says it, you can tell it’s more of a demand than anything else, but something that looks suspiciously like uncertainty flickers across his expression before he can hide it. Despite yourself, you find yourself oddly endeared.

Part of you (the sensible part of you that you should really start listening to more often) wants to protest and make an excuse but you remember the position you’re in - the position you only have yourself to blame for - and are forced to swallow your reservations. At your very small, very reluctant nod, Riddle smiles widely, eyes gleaming with unspoken triumph. “Lovely, I look forward to it.”

When he hands your book back to you, his fingers brush yours and linger for just a moment too long.

***

“What? No. No, absolutely not.” You’re staring in horror at the cage that Riddle has placed on the desk in front of you. Inside the cage, there’s a large fluffy cottontail rabbit. It’s nose twitches. It’s very cute. From somewhere behind you, Riddle sighs in exasperation.

“You realise that to demonstrate your spell for me, there will have to be a living target?” You wrinkle your nose at the patronising tone he uses. “And whilst I appreciate you might favour practising on Slytherins, I cannot in good conscience allow a repeat performance.”

“That was different,” You say and wince internally at the slight whine audible in your voice. “I’m not a sadist-”

“No, you’re not. That’s hardly what I was trying to say,” He cuts in, still amused, still pleasant, still utterly in control. He moves to your side, close enough that your arm brushes his, close enough to tell that despite the deceptive pleasantness, there's an undeniable air of excitement clinging to him. “Forgive me, but I’m finding it difficult to understand why you, a muggleborn, would spend time inventing such a spell and then test it out on a pureblood unless it was because there is a part of you that really does wish to inflict pain on those you deem worthy of it. Tell me, what got you interested in such dark magic to begin with? It’s hardly an interest commonly pursued by people of your status.”

You feel decidedly out of sorts at his appraisal of you. You don’t like to think of yourself as a violent person and you certainly don’t like that other people might see you as one. But it’s difficult to deny the obvious logic behind his questioning: you’d known exactly what that spell would do to Lestrange and you’d known that there would be a chance that it would do more damage than you’d intended. You just… hadn’t cared. You’d wanted him to suffer, to hurt, to feel fear as intimately as you have for years. You’d wanted him to look at you and know that he was lucky to be alive. “An interest in dark magic is hardly a statement of intent.” You say, at last, determinedly ignoring the fact that almost draining a man of all their blood in an abandoned dungeon probably is. He raises an eyebrow to let you know that the irony is hardly lost on him either and you sigh.

“Magic is… You know the first time I performed accidental magic it was to smash my teacher’s favourite paperweight?” You can’t help but laugh at the memory. At the time you had been so angry over some perceived injustice that you can’t even remember anymore. She’d been so upset and seven year old you had been so pleased with yourself. “I think the second time I did the opposite - fixed a vase my mother had dropped. My point being, magic is about-”

“Intent,” He summarises softly, watching you with unabashed interest. “You don’t think there’s a distinction between light and dark magic.”

It’s not a question. You nod slowly in agreement anyway.“That spell could easily be used in conjunction with a blood replenishing potion as cure for blood diseases. And...” You trail off uncertainty setting in as you regard the boy in front of you. Riddle hasn’t shown you any animosity, on the contrary, he acts as though he wants to know you, as though he’s seen something in you that he likes. You feel like you could maybe trust him. “And I don’t feel guilty for defending myself against someone who’s told me that they want me dead just because of my heritage.”

You’re not sure what you’re expecting from Riddle, but it certainly isn’t the glint of recognition that sparks in his eyes. He’s looking at you as though he knows you, as though he sees something familiar in you. The thought makes the hairs on the back of your arms stand on end. Riddle fixes you with a look of such intensity that you can’t bare to look away. His eyes never leave yours as he reaches out and cups your cheek gently and you have to fight to keep your breathing steady. “You should never feel guilty for demonstrating your power against those weaker than you.”

He drops his hand and moves to stand behind you, closer than is strictly necessary. Leaning forward slightly, he murmurs in your ear, “Please, show me the spell.”

And this time, god help you, you do.

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4)

#tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle x oc #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle imagines #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle fanfic #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle fic #minific #jinxqsu

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cadykeus-clay · 3 years

Text

remember a few days ago when i said i was writing a collection of mismatched scenes of all the times that I think jester and caleb should have just kissed on the mouth? hehe :)

“Caleb, can you hear through it?” she’s yelling, head tilting and eyes squinting as she looks at the one-way glass he’s just apparated in the middle of the hall. She leans in, scrunching her nose and sticking out her tongue a little as she detectives. “Can we come into it?”

He grins, he can’t help himself. “Only you.”

“Do we just hit the side of it or -”

Her fingertips press through the barrier, disrupting the near-transparent bubble with a ripple and he reaches out his hand for hers, guides her in. Her mouth makes the cutest little oh! shape as she passes through and she can see what he’s seeing.

“Caleb. This is so COOL!”

The grin hasn’t dropped from her face, and it spreads infectiously across his.

“I’ve been working on this for weeks,” he says, smacking his legs with triumphant fists.

Her grin gets even wider, sharing in that joy. A few more silent moments pass, as she takes it in with awe.

“So, can anyone come in, or like, only people you like, or … ?”

He thinks for a moment, grins slyly. He sticks a finger out, just barely missing her nose. “You can come in.”

She leans towards him, returning the affection he seems to be offering. She gets close to his face, on purpose. She likes making him blush. “That means you like me.”

Blush he does. It’d be near impossible not to - they’re alone and unseen together, and she’s leaning towards him, her grin pushing up the freckles on her cheeks he’d love to try and count. And he’s tired, exhausted, barely functional. He’s got no strength left to carry all the layers he usually hides himself behind, but it’s alright, it’s only Jester looking anyways.

She hasn’t pulled her face back yet, like she’s waiting for him to do something. Tease.

Even after everything they’ve both seen these past few days, fear seems gone for just a second. They’re safe inside their shell, and no one’s watching. It would be so easy to just lean down, steal a moment to remind her that he cares, remind her that he’ll always care, remind her that he did this to keep her safe, take her mind off why.

It would be so easy ...

******

II.

“Can we like. Stick things through the bubble?”

“Uh. Ja, you can put your weapons through it, but no magic can come in or out. But you can leave and come back any time you want.”

“Okay. Just checking.”

She tries to hide the wince in her face as she nods a bit too heartily, jostling the half-healed slash across her chest left from panther-like claws. He notices. She notices him noticing, notices the way his brow furrows even deeper.

“But, please. No walkabouts when we are sleeping, okay?”

He looks up at her through those drawn-together brows when he says it, pleading more than he really needs to. She learned that lesson. But it’s still sweet to see how much he cares.

He’s been caring a lot lately, come to think of it. Chatting with her on the boat. Checking in. Making sexy jokes when they’re supposed to be stealthing. Doing a very bad job of hiding his attempts to make sure she laughed at it.

“I’ll stay right here. I promise.” She settles back onto her hands, hoping it’ll bring a little relief to the pain starting to spark across her ribs.

“Well. That’s good enough for me.”

And he pauses for a second, just a second, like he’s giving her an invitation to double down on that promise, make sure he knows she knows someone cares, and who someone is, and that someone else cares back.

It would be so easy …

******

III.

When she was little and read a lot of fairy tales, she’d often think about kissing a beautiful boy in a beautiful room full of paintings and tapestries and a billion things on shelves that glittered just to be pretty, and the light would somehow be reflecting off all of them at once, and his shirt would be off for reasons, and it would be glorious.

The tunnel they're in can’t really constitute as a room, but the way the crystals shimmer even in the dim glow of the Dancing Lights, rippling all around them is arguably better than shiny decorations. Caleb certainly can constitute as a beautiful boy. After all, she’s just admitted he is neither stinky nor dirty anymore. And arm wraps aren’t quite the same as a shirt, but he has taken part of his clothes off in front of her.

Creepy snails and the third day without daylight weren’t her romantic vision, sure. But. She feels safe here, with him, and she hopes he feels safe with her. She had meant what she had said, a few days back, when he spilled his fears and his history on the floor of their wagon. She didn’t think he was a bad person. And the way he looked at her when she said it, man, he wanted to believe it. He wanted to believe it so bad.

She ought to let him know. She ought to tell him, again, that she believes in goodness in him. She believes in love in his heart. She ought to tell him right now, in this glittering cave with his heart and arms bare before her. She ought to tell him in a way where he can’t argue back ‘cause his face will be preoccupied.

It would be so easy …

*******

IV.

“YOU GUYS!”

She practically burst the door to their new ally’s house down with excitement when she got back, holding out the little striped carrying box in front of her like it’s the coolest loot they’ve ever found. She bounces on her toes, making it hard for anyone to get a real look at the confections inside.

“What do you have?” he asks, knowing she wants to tell him.

“Cupcakes!” she beams back.

“A lot of them, or?”

She flips the lid up and pushes her nose nearly into the icing topping as she examines the haul. “Well I have thirteen here, so … one, two, three -”

He almost says the numbers along with her. Counting things and making Jester smile are both muscle memory at this point.

“ - six, so good! That’s one for each of you and the rest for me!”

He looks in the box properly now, the counting having slowed her jitteriness enough for him to try and piece out flavors. There’s some dark ones that could be chocolate, but he doubts it, and some that are paler, dotted with blue. He reaches for a blueberry one, and takes a cautious bite.

“Caleb,” she says, pouting, and he’s worried he wasn’t supposed to try one, “you are Missing. Out.”

She sticks her face in towards him, to make sure he can get a good look at this reprimand. She’s got a little bit of icing stuck in the corner of her mouth.

“You can get blueberry cupcakes anywhere.”

He keeps his eyes trained on her, longer than he really ought to, but he’s trying to figure it out.

Is that a challenge, Lavorre? Is that a promise?

It would be so easy...

*******

She has to get up on her tip toes to reach the shelf where they keep the scribing paper, pulling the stack towards her so she can count out sheets.

“About 300 gold?”

“Mmm.”

She counts out the sheets, thumbing them forward into a little pile that she pulls apart, before stretching up to push the rest back onto the shelf. She turns on her heel and marches for the front counter. He lingers a moment to straighten the pile on the shelf, and trails after her.

His gaze is buried in the inside of his coat as he searches for his coin purse. His hands are still buzzing, just a little, from where she held them earlier and promised him she’d be at his side. He can’t stop thinking about it. It’s distracting him from getting his coins.

The distinctive clink of metal on countertop jerks his gaze up just as he reaches his hand in for the first coin. She’s already dropped the gold in a neat little pile, pleasantly smiling at the clerk as she snaps the clasp on her purse shut.

“That’s very generous of you,” he says, hand still frozen holding his own money.

She swings around, flashing a thumbs up and a grin. She holds it a little too long for comical effect. Of course, he snickers.

She turns to the paper on the countertop, making to gather it in her arms, but he starts, and she turns back to face him. He’s frozen there, hand just barely outstretched for her, mouth agape like he was going to say something.

What is there to say? What can he possibly say to her, to repay everything she’s ever said to him? What can he say that’s worth the sound of her laugh, and the way her tongue sticks out a little when she smiles? What’s worth the way she brightens up a room even when she’s grumpy, the bubble to his gloom?

What measures up to a tap on his shoulder as he turns to leave his study, and hands in his as she swears, with the most somber honesty he’s ever seen, that she watched him face what he could have been, tied up like a feral beast in a prison cell, and she stares in his eyes and tells him it’s ok, she saw it and loved him even through it, and then bought him presents afterwards just because?

He’ll never deserve her, he swears.

She’s still looking at him, expectantly, and his mouth is still stuck open, and his hand is still halfway between the two of them. Maybe it’s just him, but the memory of her holding it seems to be burning even hotter.

He tries to say something again, and the words aren’t coming out. She’s still waiting on him, expression starting to tip towards worry as he tries and fails to express just how overflowed his heart is right now. He can’t say it but gods, she ought to know how much she’s worth to him. Maybe he can just show her. He’ll tell her later.

It would be so easy …

******

VI.

The hallway is orange. Pale, warm, sort-of-translucent orange, swirling about her in patterns of lollipops and unicorn hamsters. Her own spells wrapped in the tender grip of his magic, handed to her with something like reverence.

I believe, he had said, I have no choice.

He’d done little things like this before, casting spells to make her and everyone else happier, letting her play with his cat because it made her smile. But he said he’d been working on this for weeks. Pouring time and sweat and his precious paper into making this thing, just for her. Everyone liked to tease her about the Traveler and how it was totally a cult, and usually she let it roll off her back, even if it stung a little on impact. And Caleb was here, telling her he took her belief in the Traveler at face value, simply because it was hers.

I don’t know anything about faith, he had said, I am learning from you.

He was a suspicious man. She knew that. He held grudges, and he mistrusted, and he had every right to. And yet all these months, he’s been putting everything he had in her hands, sure that she would not drop it. She would hold it as gently as she could.

I am the transmutation wizard, he had said, but you are the one who changes people.

How was he supposed to know that was what she was afraid of, leaving no mark on the world at all? How was he supposed to know she made art everywhere she got the chance to in hopes that she would stop being erased, start existing outside of one little room and a handful of people?

He wouldn’t have any reason to, except for he knew her so well, better than nearly anyone. He could tell when doubt was crawling up out of her gut, spilling its black tendrils from her mouth and across her eyes. He could see when the veneer got scratched, and he knew how to brush it just so, so it looked okay again. He knew how to comfort her.

“It’s beautiful.”

She knows it’s barely anything, but she doesn’t know what else to say. It caught her by surprise, and she’s reeling a little in the aftermath of seeing just how far he’s willing to go for her.

He says something else, she barely processes, but it’s enough to get her babbling about some kind of performance. She trips over her words a little, she’s just so excited. He can tell, he smiles, and that just makes her heart jump even more.

“But you have done so much for m- for all of us,” he says, and he’s not sneaky.

For me. She knows he was going to say it. For me.

Tears are almost brimming in her eyes, happy ones, and he put them there. Done so much for her, she thinks, has he counted how much he’s done for me? She’s clasping her hands at her mouth, trying to keep all her feelings from coming out at once.

He doesn’t know the half of it, everything he’s done for her. To make her feel safe, to make her feel smart, to make her feel seen, to make her feel believed in. He doesn’t know it at all, and yet the hallway is orange as a testament to how much he’s done, and she can’t let the sentiment go unreturned.

It would be so easy …

*******

VII.

“Didn’t go as well as you were hoping?”

His voice seems to startle her, as if she’d forgotten in her sadness that there were other people around her. He knew the feeling.

“In some ways it went better?” she says, doubting it even as it leaves her mouth. “But. No.”

His face softens. It’s the only thing he can do, really.

Her breath is coming out shaky.

“I can’t speak for him,” he starts, offering what little encouragement he can, “but you do have us.”

“I know,” she answers, grateful even through the sadness.

“So, whatever you land on. Jester.” He stops for a second, letting her name linger in his mouth. “We will make it happen.”

She nods, curt, tears still pricking in her eyes. “I have to figure out what I want to land on.”

He laughs, hollow and breathy, what else is there to do. He starts to reach his hand out for her, and catches it, his own hesitance getting the better of him.

He knows what he wants her to land on, he’s known for … longer than he really cares to admit. He knows he’d follow her to hell and back, that’s why he’s here on this island with her.

He knows how hard it is to love without a compass to direct it. He knows that moonlight makes selfishness a much more appealing color.

It’s dark, and he’s hopelessly in, and she’s searching for a place to not be so alone. He could show her a place to land.

It would be so easy …

******

VIII.

He’s holding it out to her, a black ball clutched between his fingertips, just a little iridescent in the blazing sun overhead. He’s grinning, and his eyes are bright. He looks so happy, for just this moment, with a pearl in his hand.

Forget the water pouring down their faces as they come up from the murk, plastering their hair to their foreheads at odd angles. Forget the wrench in both their guts about the monster brewing beneath their feet and in their minds. Forget the clothes sticking to their skin in all the wrong spots. Forget the sounds of their friends arguing twenty feet back.

She jumped in the water with him for a reason, because he wanted pearls, and she wanted him to be happy, and he’s holding one out to her right now because he is, and that’s all she could really ask for.

Maybe it’ll be extra wet and slippery. Maybe it’ll taste like salt and seaweed and that weird fish stink that all bodies of water seem to have. Maybe her hands are covered in sand and they’ll get some in their mouths and it’ll be disgusting.

Who cares? She jumped in the water with him and he’s happy.

It would be so easy …

******

IX.

The funny thing is, when she was little, she actually planned her wedding in this room. The canopy bed would double as the altar, gauze draping about them and the window lighting them from the back as they knelt with their hands together, wrapping them up with silk ribbon as someone spoke some formal rites. Mama would sit in the guest of honor chair at Jester’s desk, a tear running down her cheek as she watched her baby girl marry the love of her life.

Now Caleb’s in here with her and she’s realizing there’s no good angle to get the window backlight and be in full view of her Mama.

He’s lying down on the bed, because she told him to. She’s flopped down next to him, squirmed up into his side with the excuse of “small bed” but the intent of “I like the way I rest against your side”.

He’d commented on her array of books - she knew he would. She may or may not have pulled the smarter looking titles up to the front a few visits ago, just in case.

He’d looked at her artwork too, spanning the walls in all its multicolored glory. He’d bent down to get a good look at her earliest, shittiest paintings. But not in the way where he wanted to see how bad they were, to laugh at. In the same way he looked at new artifacts they’d picked up along the road, as he traced his runes for Identify. Like he was trying to glean a missed history out of them, to get to know just a little bit more about what was in front of him now.

So she’s curled into his chest, careful with her horns, wrapping her hand over his to point out every last detail. Her other hand falls to his stomach, her fingers brush his, and neither of them pull away.

She always figured they’d fall like this, her and her husband, backward onto the bed after the ribbon was knotted to finalize their union. They’d be too happy to stand and they’d just collapse at each other’s side, and they’d plan their honeymoon like this. Pointing out places they wanted to go in her little snapshot of the cityscape, nestled into each other’s chests.

Caleb’s enraptured, she can hear excitement in his breath, and she’s more than a little pleased. She didn’t know people cared this much about her art, about her childhood, about who she was before she became who she is. She hopes she has all the time in the world to tell him more.

She’s still on his chest, their hands are still touching, even though she’s finished pointing out the painted landmarks. She’s kissed a lot of imaginary boys in this room.

It would be so easy …

******

Spinning with her arms out, feet tracing circles in the snow, they haven’t even made it to the dance hall yet and she’s already waltzing like he taught her all those months ago in a scroungy gnomish bar. The cold is bringing a flush to her cheeks and god damn it, it’s cute. She’s humming.

They could get inside where it’s warm, where they don’t need to get close for heat but they do anyway. Wrap an arm around her waist and take her hand in his. Keep her close enough to hear her giggle with each twirl he leads her on. Get drunk off her smile alone.

Find a far corner where the music is softer and they have space to just sway together. Write new memories over old, equally as sweet, slightly less bitter. Look at that smile that won’t have faded since before they stepped through the door. Run his fingers across her jaw, save this moment in tactile too. Lean down in slow motion, as she stretches up.

It would be so easy …

******

XI.

“What are you drawing?” he asks, not even looking up from his spells. He’s grown comfortable with having her in his space.

“A cup of hot cocoa.”

“Are there dicks in it?”

“No, just two very lovely marshmallows.”

His head lifts up at that, gazing at her with the gleam he’s been giving his runes. He’s trying to figure her out.

“Shnuggling up next to each other,” she continues. “With consent.”

“We’re not talking about grass are we?”

“No. I’m talking about marshmallows.”

“Marshmallows?” The gleam in his eye grows a little brighter. He leans a little closer. “I thought there was a hidden meaning for a second.”

There’s a reason why she sat down here, why she wanted him next to her as she thought about love and commitment, and telling people things after all these months. There’s a reason why he didn’t start as she settled at his side. There’s a reason why he’s looking at her with a cocked grin on his face, sure of himself, in a way that he so rarely is.

Maybe she wanted him to figure her out. Maybe she’s been trying to get him to figure her out for a while. He’s starting to turn back to his spells, so maybe she needs to get even a little more obvious.

It would be so easy...

******

XII.

She knocked on the door with her heart already in her throat, but the second she stepped through the door and saw him looking over at her, tired but welcoming, it started to settle back where it belonged.

“Caleb. Will you cast tongues on me? YouknowImeanthespell,” she said, rushing words out because her heart was starting to leap back up again. “I just want to read the book.”

He nervously tucks some hair behind his ear. “I could read it to you, if you want?”

She knew he’d offered before, but she’s still surprisingly happy that he’s done it again. “Okay.”

He stands, wiping stained ink from his fingers on his pants as he leaves his desk, gesturing her over towards his fireplace. She swears as she walks over the flames get a little taller. She’s always liked it warmer than Caleb does.

She flops down onto the couch, wiggling a little bit to get comfortable. She pats the seat next to her and he obliges. She holds the book out and he takes it from her, so very gently, and she can’t tell if it’s just the way he treats books, or the way he treats her, or both.

He clears his throat as he prepares to open the cover, glancing over to make sure she’s ready. She scooches a bit closer, resting her cheek against his shoulder, you know, to see the pictures better, and hums to let him know he can start.

He talks to her in a quiet kind of voice. It’s soft, and it makes his chest rumble, and it feels like home. She could close her eyes and fall asleep here, and she can bet he wouldn’t even get up and risk disturbing her. She nearly does, but he’s stopping every few sentences to show her the pictures, without her even asking, he just knows she wants to see them. He’s pointing out the hidden cat on every page. She loves that he still remembers where they all are.

“That was a happy story, Caleb!” she says, mostly to his shoulder, because she doesn’t want to move from where she’s nestled herself.

“Mhm,” he agrees. “That’s why my mother read it to me.”

“I really thought, like, the cat prince was going to trap him in there forever, and then he wouldn’t be able to go and see his mother.” She cranes her head up now, propping her chin on his arm, stabilizing herself with arms she was barely aware she’d wrapped around his waist.

“Well,” he says, turning his head towards her and finding their noses nearly touching, “a lot of Zemnian stories do end that way.”

She laughs, he smiles, and neither of them want to move.

“The Cat Prince kind of reminds me of the Traveler,” she muses. She buries her face back in his shoulder as she talks, squeezing her arms a little tighter around him.

“It’s true, isn’t it?”

It’s a question only in technicality. The way his voice sounds as he says it, she can tell. He’s read so many stories, he could have picked any to leave in her room, but he chose this one about a boy and a bedroom and a magic cat and a brief escape, with a happy ending. He knew she’d ask. He wanted her to.

She’s glad she did. She’s glad he knows her so well. She’s glad for the way he turned up the fire to make her comfortable. She’s glad for the smile that’s still on his lips, lasting longer than his smiles usually do. She’s glad she’s here with him, after everything they’ve seen and heard and done. She’s just glad.

Gods, she’s so in love with him.

It would be so easy.

fin.

#widojest #jester x caleb #critical role fic #critical role #alex writes #i may or may not edit and put this on ao3 later but for now its just here #also fair warning may have typos in it i didn't get a chance to fully edit bc i gotta go to class in 5 minutes

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lady-of-the-lotus · 3 years

Text

The Undershirt

The Sleuth of the Ming Dynasty - Suitang - 2k - G - first kiss fluff - AO3!

..............

“Hand it over,” orders Sui Zhou.

Tang Fan pouts, a pout somewhere in between his “I’m hungry, feed me” face and “Dinner was an hour late, I almost died” face.

“I ran out of clean ones,” he says when Sui Zhou holds out his hand, “and I had to pack in a hurry—”

“I had only three rules. Rule one: Don’t mess up my house again—”

“Alright, alright,” Tang Fan says before Sui Zhou can lecture him. Leave it to Sui Zhou to take an inventory of his clothes as soon as he got home, all because Tang Fan had left his things just the tiniest bit mussed! “Take your stupid undershirt back; it’s too big on me anyway.”

Sui Zhou turns back to his cooking as Tang Fan slips halfway out of his robe, making a face as he removes the undershirt. Missing Sui Zhou, Tang Fan had pilfered the distinctive draped-neck garment from his things after he’d left on his ill-fated “business trip.” “Happy now, Sui-baihu?”

Sui Zhou glances up briefly from the soup, eyes flickering over Tang Fan. Sui Zhou’s handsome features are soft in the warm yellow candlelight and the orange glow of the stove. “Better.”

Tang Fan stands there with his robes draped around his waist, chest exposed, shyly holding the undershirt in front of him, watching Sui Zhou’s strong, sure hands as they slice vegetables and meat and then, once dinner is cooking, assemble the dessert, grinding the sesame seeds and working the delicate mixture.

A swell of fondness fills Tang Fan’s chest as Sui Zhou puts the finishing touches on the little sesame cakes, decorating each with a pink circle of honeyed flower petals.

"Aren't you going to put the undershirt back on?” Tang Fan asks as Sui Zhou puts the last petal in place. Most of the shyness has worn off as Sui Zhou tells him about how he developed the recipe, his deep voice low and soothing as it fills the cozy little kitchen.

"Later." Sui Zhou glances up, eyes flickering once again over Tang Fan's bare chest before returning to his work. Perhaps it's the warm glow of the candle, but Tang Fan imagines there's a hint of color in Sui Zhou's cheeks.

Too late it occurs to him that he should have at least put his robes back up over his arms and chest. Jiejie had driven it through his head that to wear robes without an undershirt was uncouth and a sure way to get the robes dirty, but…

"Do you still have your prison clothes? That was a good look." The question escapes Tang Fan before he can censor himself. "I mean—your uniform is good too—I mean, your normal undershirt is better than that prison one.” He dangles the undershirt from his fingertips, as if this question was just an extension of him returning Sui Zhou's undershirt. “I mean...”

Sui Zhou cranes his neck away slightly, as if trying to avoid looking at Tang Fan but probably only checking to make sure Dong'er isn't nearby to see Tang Fan in this state of undress. "Be careful with that. You're going to set the kitchen on fire again."

Grinning, and more at ease now that the conversation is back in familiar teasing territory, Tang Fan sidles closer to Sui Zhou, waving his shirt near where the mutton soup is bubbling on the fire. "Oh, that was on purpose. You know, to get you to free Dong'er—"

Sui Zhou gives him that look of his, the one that appears completely expressionless but in fact contains a half dozen emotions from all corners of the spectrum. "You set fire to my house on purpose?"

"Well—"

"What about the time you fell asleep with the candle beside your bed, and the time you tripped and fell holding the lamp—"

"Fine, it wasn't on purpose. But the bad food was! I can cook, if I wanted to—”

"You can't cook."

Tang Fan inches closer. He's not quite sure why. "You could teach me."

Sui Zhou frowns slightly. "You step foot in my kitchen without me here, and you sleep outside with the sheep."

Tang Fan wrinkles his nose. "The sheep has a name ."

"Li Qing?"

Tang Fan almost drops the undershirt on the stove. "How did you—”

Sui Zhou turns away again as if to hide a grin. Li Qing is the main character of Tang Fan's magnum opus, My Sexy Lady .

"You didn't read it!" Tang Fan leans forward in consternation. He's not sure why he's so thrown. It's a brilliantly-written work, like all of his books, but somehow to have Sui Zhou privy to—to all that — "Wang Zhi told you or something—wait till I get my hands on him!"

Sui Zhou is definitely holding back a grin. "I liked the part where the ‘sexy lady’ sets fire to Shi Yang's house after she thinks he stole her necklace."

"That never happened! She never did anything half so crazy!”

Sui Zhou is no longer holding back his smile. "Maybe in the sequel, My Sexy Wife."

Tang Fan laughs out loud. People who don't know Sui Zhou think he's stiff and cold and completely humorless, but Tang Fan knows better. It's subtle, but Sui Zhou's sense of humor and appreciation of the outlandish is definitely there. If it weren't, Tang Fan doesn't think he would get along with him as well as he does.

Which, when he stops to think of it, is rather odd. His getting along with him so well, not the sense of humor. Despite having lived in the capital for years, and having many acquaintances, Tang Fan has few close friends. As he knows he’s a delight to be around, never complaining and generously standing people meals, he can only assume it’s a failing in other people.

A failing that Sui Zhou evidently doesn’t have, to appreciate Tang Fan’s virtues, both hidden and overt.

It’s not that Tang Fan annoys people. That can’t possibly be it, no matter what Jiejie says. But he can’t deny that not everyone appreciates him, and that hurts, sometimes.

A sudden thought, and Tang Fan abruptly stops laughing. Why did Sui Zhou pick that example? Surely it was just a joke after what they'd been talking about—he knows it is—but of all characters to pick—

Tang Fan had based a lot of Li Qing on himself. Like him, she's a beautiful genius often put-upon by those who fail to appreciate her properly, driven to do the right thing at whatever costs, someone who appreciates fine food and faces the world with a smile no matter how she's feeling.

No. Sui Zhou is just teasing him, as usual. That's it. He probably hadn't even finished the book...

He wants to ask Sui Zhou if he liked the book, but despite it being his best-selling work, he’s hesitant to ask. Sui Zhou is nothing if not honest, and what if he didn’t truly like it?

Tang Fan resolves to start work on a sequel that night. Perhaps Shi Yang could enter the imperial guards and, together with Li Qing, solve a series of increasingly exciting mysteries that pit them against the world. Back to back, they’ll chase justice and stand strong against the winds of—

“Here.” Sui Zhou slides the plate of sesame cakes towards him. “For coming to get me.”

Tang Fan grins. “You mean rescuing you.”

Sui Zhou turns back to the soup. "Just eat them."

Tang Fan inches even closer, more to annoy Sui Zhou than anything else, he thinks. "Go on, say it. I rescued you."

"Keep this up, and you're getting kicked out of my kitchen."

" Your kitchen? Why is it—oh, right. It's your house." Tang Fan looks down at the sesame cakes. It's almost a shame to eat them, they’re so beautifully decorated. "Am I allowed to eat them before dinner, or are you going to get all sulky?"

Sui Zhou gives Tang Fan a look as if to say, I'm not the childish one here, and reaches for a sesame cake just as Tang Fan does. Their fingers brush, and tingling current runs up Tang Fan's arm. Startled, he jerks away, dropping Sui Zhou's undershirt on the stove.

Spattered in mutton grease, it erupts in a column of flame.

"Augh!" Panicking, Tang Fan drops the shirt in the soup. “Put it out! Put it out!”

Sui Zhou snatches the shirt out of the soup and drops it in a pot of water. "What did I just tell you about setting my house on fire?"

Smiling weakly, Tang Fan begins sidling in the opposite direction as Sui Zhou comes closer. "You startled me! You grabbed at me just as I was trying to eat, I haven't eaten all day, I was hungry, you forced me to take a cake—"

He bumps up against the wall. Sui Zou leans over him, one arm framing him, his face a mix of exasperation and—and fondness, Tang Fan wants to believe, though it’s hard to when there's a charred, soup-soaked undershirt not five feet away.

"It wasn't my fault I burned your shirt!" Tang Fan continues bravely. Whining has always worked on Old Pei and Jiejie, though he still hasn’t quite learned the exact point Jiejie’s indulgence tips over into slapping-him-across-the-face territory, hence all the slapping. "Tired after weeks of traveling, traveling across half the empire to rescue you, if you recall, weeks of seasickness and danger and unpadded saddles and not being able to finish my rice noodles in the one good restaurant between here and I thought you were dead at one point, and that was almost as bad as the noo—"

Sui Zhou bends forward and kisses him.

Tang Fan goes rigid.

Did—did Sui Zhou just—

Sui Zhou kisses him again, as if to clear up any doubts.

"Well, that's one way to stop you from talking," he says.

Tang Fan's heart is beating like a war drum, but strangely enough it's not from nerves. There's a smile on Sui Zhou's lips (rather full lips, he notices. Until now he's been too distracted by his arms and shoulders and—well—all the rest of him, most likely), and there's definite fondness in his eyes.

"I once talked through an acupuncture session for a sore tooth," Tang Fan says boastingly, more to calm his nerves than anything else.

He’s never been kissed before. Or rather, being a man, perhaps it was more appropriate to say he’d never kissed anyone before.

He’d always changed the subject when Old Pei brought it up. The local girls had never interested him, and he’d never though there were other— options—

"You can ask him at dinner,” he blusters on, pulse fluttering. “I was probably able to give him some good tips and pointers, I once read a book on acupuncture that—"

Sui Zhou shuts him up again, cupping his face in his hand. It smells of honey and spice, the callused palm somehow soft against Tang Fan's cheek, his long fingers curling around the back of his neck as he kisses him.

Tang Fan is suddenly very aware that he's half-naked, but it's somehow nice being around Sui Zhou like that, not uncomfortable as he's sometimes felt in the past around others. Natural, despite his first-time nerves.

He suddenly realizes that Sui Zhou is looking down at him as if waiting for him to say or do something.

"Am I allowed to speak again?" Tang Fan asks.

Sui Zhou half-smiles. "Nothing could stop you from talking for very long."

"I want another one of your undershirts, but a black one this time. I saw one tucked away in the chest, but Dong'er said it wouldn’t match my robes, though what does she know? I want the black undershirt, and—"

"Black to hide any future char?"

"This was an accident! You startled me!"

"The one you were wearing today is mostly black now, after you set it on fi—"

Tang Fan kisses him.

"You're right," he says, grinning at Sui Zhou, who seems to have forgotten how to speak. "That does work."

AO3

#suitang #the sleuth of the ming dynasty #tsomd #tang fan #sui zhou #tangzhou #katie sleuth of the ming dynasty lotus

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helnjk · 3 years

Text

Sixth Year - D.M.

Draco Malfoy x fem!reader

Platonic!Blaise Zabini x fem!reader

Requested: yes

Hey if requests are open could you do a prompt#21&50 for Draco.. Could it be a bit of angst and end with fluff? Thanks!

“all you do is make empty promises” “i’m tired of your lies”

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: angst, swearing

Summary: 6th year with Draco isn’t turning out how you expected it to be.

A/N: ok 1, i wanted to try writing angst (pls give comments/reviews!! i wanna know how i did) & 2, other than the request, i kind of based this off of one of my fav tiktok acct’s shifting stories aksjdhsadh you can find her here ! i love her tiktoks and she’s what got me into shifting LMAO but anyway ! let me know if you wanna be added to my taglist ! enjoy xx

THIS IS A REPOST BC I THINK TUMBLR DID ME DIRTY WITH THE TAGS

Prompts are in bold

—

Eighth. This was the eighth night you had stayed up until god knows what hour waiting for Draco to show up.

The moon was high in the sky by the time you realized he wasn’t coming yet again. The biting wind rushed past you as you tried to gather as much warmth as possible from the jacket you brought up to the Astronomy tower. Your breath came out in short puffs, white wisps trailing from your mouth out into the chilly night.

With one last glance at the midnight stained grounds, the only light emanating from the moon above, you wrapped your jacket tighter around your body and turned to make it down the stairs. It was a long trek to the Slytherin dorms, which gave your mind more time to spiral. This meant fighting back the prick of tears at the back of your eyes by the time you had reached the dungeons.

The next morning, you found yourself at the Slytherin table barely able to keep your eyes open. You hadn’t gotten much sleep, your mind refusing to stop running the different scenarios with which you imagined Draco must have gotten into causing him to forget your rescheduled plans.

“Y/N?” Blaise’s voice startled you into opening your eyes, having nodded off, leant against your palm.

“Huh?” You murmured, trying to blink the sleep from your eyes, “Sorry did you say something?”

“You alright? You look like you could just drop dead any second,” His eyes scanned yours worriedly, shifting closer to you so that you could have something to lean on.

“Gee thanks Blaise,” A sarcastic drawl came out of your lips, “Just tired. I was up late last night at the Astronomy tower waiting for Draco.”

His brows furrowed at your statement, “Draco? He got to the dorms pretty early last night. Didn’t say he had anything planned with you last night.” Eyes widened at the realization of what he said and he quickly tried to back track, “I mean-That’s not-”

Despite the distinct crack you felt in your chest, you mustered up the faintest of smiles (which probably looked more like a lopsided grimace), “It’s alright, Blaise. Thanks for letting me know.”

The rest of the day passed by you in a blur.

Everyone seemed to notice the melancholy mood that you were in, everyone except for the only person you wished would pay attention.

Being in your sixth year at Hogwarts, you were excited to spend a good chunk of it with your boyfriend. After all, there were no OWLs or NEWTs to worry about (yet), so you assumed that this year would bring more time for you to spend together.

You were wrong. Clearly.

The moment you had stepped off the Hogwarts Express in September, Draco started to spend less and less time with you. It was November now and the less time you found yourself spending with him, the more you noticed that he began to keep things from you. His eyes would shift whenever you would ask him what his plans for the day were or when you questioned who he would be with all day. He never gave you straight answers either.

“Why? What do you have planned for us today?”

“Just off brainstorming for our next date.”

“Obsessed with me, are you? You’re too cute darling.”

No matter how charming he had tried to be with his answers, you could tell something was off with him. None of the so-called plans he came up with ever came to full fruition. Often, you would find yourself waiting for him to arrive, either at the common room to take you to wherever he planned your date to be, or up in the Astronomy tower since that was where you went when you wanted to spend time, just the two of you.

Some nasty rumors had also been circulating Slytherin house. It started when someone overheard Harry Potter speaking to his friends about running into Draco right before a quidditch match, but the catch was that he was in the company of two other girls. Of course, you tried not to let these kinds of things get to you, they were just silly little rumors after all.

Still, these kinds of thoughts plagued you at night when you would go to bed not wrapped in the arms of the person you loved most.

When you brought up these feelings with him, it had only started an argument.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Y/N.” Draco said rather harshly after you asked him about the rumors, “Are you implying that I’m cheating on you?”

“No!” You replied immediately, “I just want to know where these rumors are coming from. You’re my boyfriend, I should know what to say when people ask me about it.”

“Then tell them they should be minding their own damn business.”

You didn’t bring it up after that, afraid that if you did, it would cause an even bigger rift between you two.

By the time you had made it back to the common room, it was mostly empty. There were a couple of seventh years trying to get in some extra revising time in the corner, but they mostly left you alone. Not wanting to go up to your dorm yet, you settled on the couch next to the blazing fire instead. By some stroke of luck, Draco came stumbling inside the room as you sunk into the cushions.

“Draco!” You called out, his name slipping from your lips before you even knew you were saying anything.

His eyes registered that you were in the practically empty common room a second slower than usual, “Y/N. Hi love.”

“I missed you last night,” You admitted as he reached you.

A furrow in his brows told you that he didn’t know what you were talking about, “Come again, love?”

For the nth time, his words struck a chord deep in you. You didn’t think it was physically possible, but they added yet another crack to your already broken heart. You cleared your throat in an attempt to push down the lump that had formed, “Uh, I was waiting for you in the Astronomy tower? Because we had plans?”

As if a bucket of cold water dropped on him, his demeanour changed completely in the blink of an eye.

“Oh darling I’m so sorry,” He muttered softly, taking your face in his hands and pressing kisses all around, “I was completely knackered yesterday, I didn’t even think about anything after dinner except sleep. I’m so sorry. What can I do to make it up to you?”

Instead of the calm you usually felt being around Draco, you felt like you were at your breaking point. You couldn’t do this to yourself anymore. It was surprising to realize, that even with the added comfort of being at the receiving end of his kisses, there was still a large part of you that was tired. You couldn’t fall back into his arms after more than a dozen attempts at trying to keep the relationship afloat.

Gently, you pried his hands away from his face and took a deep breath. You could already feel the sting of unshed tears in your eyes as they locked with his, “I don’t think you can do anything to fix this.”

“What-Love, what are you talking about?”

“All you do is make empty promises, Dray.” You whispered, “And I’m tired of setting myself up for disappointment.”

The love of your life was speechless, so you took the opportunity to stand up quickly. “I don’t understand what you’re doing or why you’re being so secretive about it, but find me when you’ve figured out if it’s worth it or not.”

Without waiting for his response, you hurriedly made your way to your dorm room and sparing no glances back in his direction.

A few days after your heartbreaking conversation with Draco, you still weren’t one hundred percent. It didn’t feel like you were ever going to be one hundred percent again. Your only solace was your friendship with Blaise.

For all intents and purposes, he was your best friend. Even before you had started dating Draco, the two of you were thick as thieves.

Oftentimes over the next few days, you found yourselves huddled in a corner of the common room. He would remind you to eat and to do your schoolwork as you went about your days mindlessly.

“C’mon,” He said one night, holding his hand out to you as you were cuddled up against a cushion. You merely raised your eyebrow at him, “Get up, I’ve got somewhere to take you.”

With a sigh, you pushed yourself off the couch and took his hand. It was well past curfew, but it never really bothered the pair of you. Being Slytherins made you resourceful with how you navigated the castle, the easy dynamic between the two of you enabled you to sneak through the shadows unnoticed by anyone who might have been nearby.

“Why are we going to the Astronomy tower?” You whispered as you climbed the seemingly endless staircase.

“Just thought you could use some fresh air.” He answered nonchalantly, “Feels like you’ve kept yourself cooped up in the castle this whole week.”

“That’s awful sweet of you, Zabini,” You teased, the shadow of a smile on your lips.

He shrugged as you got to the top of the tower, “Just don’t like seeing you so sad.”

Few words were exchanged between you two as you leant against the railing of the turret, taking in the view of the grounds in the dim light. The moon was full and high in the sky, and the breeze wasn’t as biting as it was the last time you were here.

Something about being up there in the clear night with Blaise was doing wonders for your aching heart. It might’ve been the fresh, crisp air, it might have been the calming presence of your best friend. You were grateful either way.

As the wind picked up, you huddled closer to Blaise’s warm body. What was it about boys being basically walking furnaces all the damn time?

“Draco’s a prat,” He murmured as he wrapped his arms around you, “I just wanted you to hear that.”

“He’s not though,” You defended weakly, “Something’s up with him, definitely, but I don’t think he’s being a dick on purpose.”

“Yeah but he’s still made you feel like shit.”

You shrugged, “And I let him.”

After a few minutes of silence, you heard the distinct sound of a door swinging open behind you. You craned your neck to see who would be up here at such a late hour when your heart stopped in your chest.

“What’s going on here?” Draco sneered, taking in the sight of you cuddled up at Blaise’s side, “Replaced me already, Y/N? Reckon he’s the reason why we’ve broken up?”

You felt Blaise tense up beside you but paid no mind when your focus was solely on the rage brewing in your chest.

“How dare you,” You seethed, “You have no right to accuse me, we weren’t even doing anything!”

He had the audacity to scoff at your retort, “Sneaking off at nearly midnight, to share a romantic night under the stars? Seems like more than just ‘nothing.’”

Before you could respond, you felt Blaise’s warm hands on your shoulders, “I’m gonna let you handle this one, love.” Blaise whispered in your ear, “He doesn’t deserve anything from you, but I feel like I’ll only make it worse if I stay.”

You nodded slightly.

“Hurt her even more than you have, Malfoy, and you’ll see just what kinds of curses I know how to cast.”

With Blaise making a quick exit and taking away your source of warmth, you crossed your arms in front of your chest and clutched the jacket you had on closer to you.

“You never had a problem with my friendship with Blaise before,” You muttered.

“Because he wasn’t all over you then!” He argued.

“We’ve always been like that and you know it.” You rolled your eyes, “Why are you even up here Draco?”

“So you own the Astronomy tower now?” He huffed, stepping next to you to lean on the railings, “I needed somewhere to think and clear my head.”

Almost as if there was no gaping chasm between the two of you, your bodies slowly inched towards each other until you were shoulder to shoulder. Almost as if the boy standing next to you hadn’t broken your heart with his secrets and his deflection tactics, his presence seemed to calm your elevated heart rate. Almost.

“Are you finally going to tell me what’s been going on with you recently?” The words that escape your mouth are no more than a whisper. You hold your breath in anticipation.

“Nothing’s been going on,” Is all he says in reply.

“Stop lying through your teeth, Draco!” You burst out, your frustrations finally getting the better of you, “I’m tired of your lies. Do you not trust me? Is that it? Because I can help you, you just have to let me in!”

“Of course I trust you! I love you for Merlin’s sake, Y/N!”

You sucked in a breath, all of your resentment seeming to escape your body, “I love you too, Draco,” You whisper, taking his warm hand in your cold ones, “But all of this sneaking around, this hiding, I don’t think I can handle not knowing what you’re up to especially when it’s affecting you this way.”

Draco took a deep shuddering breath, you could practically see the gears turning in his head. “I don’t want to lose you.”

That wasn’t what you expected him to say, “You won’t, you just need to be honest with me.”

He turned to face you, thumbs rubbing gentle circles on your hands, “I can’t tell you exactly what I’m doing,” You opened your mouth to argue but he cut you off with a look, “All I can say is that I love you and I want to protect you. What I’m doing has nothing to do with how much you mean to me, but it’s something I have to do. I just need you to be here, be with me.”

“I don’t understand,” Came your reply.

“I’m saying that I have an important job to do, and I want to be with you, but that means you’ll have to be okay with not knowing everything.”

“You’ll tell me if you need any help though, right?” You all but whispered.

“I’ll tell you if you absolutely need to know,” He nodded slightly.

“Okay,” You were still trying to wrap your head around everything that he said. It wasn’t exactly what you wanted, but it was a good compromise, “And you can’t keep blowing me off. If you want me to be here for you, then you have to do the same for me.”

“I can work with that.” A slow smile graced his pale features and you felt your heart stutter at the sight, you hadn’t seen him look so calm and at ease in a long time.

“Good.” You pressed your cheek against his chest and reveled at the comfort it brought you. He wrapped his arms around you and you could feel yourself melting into his touch.

#Draco Malfoy #Draco Malfoy imagine #Draco Malfoy imagines #Draco Malfoy fics #Draco Malfoy fic #Draco Malfoy x reader #Draco Malfoy reader insert #Draco Malfoy x y/n #Draco Malfoy angst #Blaise Zabini

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occasionalsnippets · 3 years

Text

Escapism AU (Y/n) & Passione

This is mostly about mc’s interactions with the gang including a bit of La Squadra and Unita Speciale. I’ll probably add more as I think.

Bucciarati’s Gang

Mc crashes at their house from time to time even though she has her own apartment

This either because she wants to sleep over for fun

Or because she’s finished a mission and their house is closer

Sometimes she shows up at 2 AM and just passes out on their couch

It happens more often than it should

Bruno eventually gives her a copy of the key

She steals food from the fridge too but makes up for it by buying groceries

They leave a toothbrush and cup for her in one of the bathrooms since she comes over so much

Before everyone was recuited, there were extra bedrooms in the house that weren’t being used

They left a guest room for mc but she doesn’t use it all the time, opting to pass out on the couch first

Either Bruno or Abbacchio usually brings her to her room though Abbacchio would never admit to it

Mista draws on her face with marker sometimes but leaves her on the couch most of the time. He can’t ruin her cute face all the time

Narancia cuddles with her on the couch or join Mista in doodling

Fugo leaves her on the couch but gets a blanket and readjusts her position if it’s uncomfortable

However, after Mista got recruited, mc gave up her room so Mista didn’t have to room with anyone

Now, she just sleeps on the couch or whoever’s okay with her borrowing their bed

She has tried several times to get them to wear normal clothes outside (they dressed perfectly normally before joining the mafia!) and only about half those times did it actually work

Mc is strong enough carry everyone in the group bridal style

The only ones who gets particularly mouthy when she does is Abbacchio and Mista but only because Mista wants to carry her too

She joins Fugo, Narancia and Mista in doing stupid things but it’s fun

She knows the torture dance

Mc isn’t technically a part of their team but they consider her to be because of how often she stays over and tags along for missions

She doesn’t expect anyone to really like her the way they do despite how obvious their feelings are

Part of it is because she isn’t supposed to be in this universe in the first place, that she’s an outsider of sorts. She’s here to make sure they don’t die

The other part of it is the guilt of leaving them to die in the first timeline. She feels like she doesn’t deserve how highly they think of her because of how readily she was to let fate run it’s course the first time around, even if they don’t remember it

She’s sooner die then let any of them do the same

Giorno

Mc meets Giorno before he’s recruited into the gang since she does go to the same school as him even though she doesn’t really show up to classes that often

She’s about 2 years older than Giorno

They became friends prior to his hair turning blond and she almost didn’t recognize him but his eyes are rather distinctive

When it did turn blond, mc got a vaguely panicked call in the morning from him saying his hair turned blond for some reason

She’s the first person to braid his hair with the needlessly extra loop at the end after it turned blond

She wasn’t sure how the donuts worked but the next time she saw him he had the signature donut hair so she guessed he figured out how to do it

It becomes routine for her to braid Giorno’s hair when she notices it’s undone

She gave him a crash course on stands when he found out she had one

They spend a lot of time in libraries

Mc insists on paying for food when they get lunch together though Giorno always refuses

I feel like Giorno lowkey craves intimacy?

Mc calls him “GioGio” sometimes

Trish

Hmmmmm, gay

I really like Trish hence why she’s included in the harem

Out of everyone in the gang guarding her, she’s the closest with mc since they’re both girls which is also why Bruno assigns mc to her the most often

Convenient for Trish since it means more time to flirt

Unfortunately, mc does fall under the “are we just being nice to each other or are we flirting” when Trish is just about ready to ask for her hand in marriage

She’s flirting, no doubt

Trish lets mc rest her head on her thighs which mc can confirm is very comfortable

Trish is one of the two people she trusts to do her make up, the other one being Abbacchio

You know that picture where there’s one girl sitting on the other girl doing her makeup

That’s basically Trish and mc

Post-Vento Aureo, they stay in contact and remain good friends as Trish pursues a career as a singer

Narancia

Mc joined Fugo on that walk where they found Narancia in the alleyway so she’s partially responsible for him joining the mafia

They bring him to Libecco where Bruno is and he gets food before going to the hospital to get his eye treated like in canon

She goes shopping with him after he’s out of the hospital

They get normal clothes but the next she sees him, he’s wearing his canon outfit and she wonders why she even bothered with his fashion sense in the first place

She’s the one who buys him his bandana that he wears in his canon outfit

They’re pretty cute together actually

She calls him “Nara”

While she isn’t available all the time to help Fugo tutor him, when she is around, she tries her best to help

They listen to music together and mc ends up reccomending a lot though some songs haven’t come out yet so she’s only able to play them on her phone

“If I run and jump at (Y/n), she’ll definately catch me!” “Wait, I’m holding a mug-” *Drops the mug and catches Narancia*

Hugs with Narancia often end with his face buried in the crook of her neck

Fugo

Probably the one mc goes with on missions the most

Part of it is because they’re the closest in age prior to everyone else joining, another part is due to mc’s nullifying ability effectively making her immune to Purple Haze’s virus

Mc be like “if I got infected with purple haze’s virus, I would simply become immune. rip to everyone else but I’m different.”

Still, Fugo is still very cautious when it comes to pulling out Purple Haze

Fugo buys her lavender hand lotion once and she decided she liked it so she continued to use it

He sorta associates lavender with mc

Mc buys him strawberry earrings. Sometimes she spontaneously buys stuff that reminds her of him

Fugo isn’t particularily fond of contact (backstory trauma) so mc tries to keep it to a minimum unless he gives an okay

Probably a few missions together where mc saves him, they’re walking down a street together and he just slips his hand into hers

Asadlskjh, I want them to hold hands

When she’s doing school assignments over at the Bucci house, Fugo helps her look over and proofread them despite the fact she has access to the internet through her phone and can search stuff literally from the future (not that he knows). She appreciates the input

I think that after Fugo leaves the group during Vento Aureo, I would like to bring him back somehow before the end of Vento Aureo

Abbacchio

He didn’t like mc at first, no surprises here, but after they went on a few missions together where she saved his life, he begrudgingly opened up

She reminds him of his dead partner due to how reckless she is in saving people

She an idiot but she’s his idiot

He’s likely one of the most worried when she gets hurt since he doesn’t want to lose another person who died protecting him

Abbacchio does come off as very tsundere seeing how prickly he is to everyone except Bruno but everyone except for mc notices that he isn’t that prickly to her either

Mc doesn’t expect him to like her to any degree so whenever anyone points out that he’s nicer to her, she’s like “what?”

They have late night talks a lot

Abbacchio stays up late drinking and mc doesn’t sleep consistently enough

Sometimes they go up to the roof of the house to talk

She has fallen alseep on him multiple times. His tiddies make great pillows.

Generally, she’s got her head resting on his tiddies, one arm hanging over his body, the other spawled out somewhere. He keeps one arm around her head and the other around her waist

Bruno

Mc with Bruno is oddly domestic?

she helps around the house, buying groceries, helping out in the kitchen and cleaning from time to time

Bruno appreciates it a lot

If Abbacchio and mc have late night talks, Bruno and her have early morning talks when everyone else is asleep and the sun is just barely rising

Bruno keeps telling her it isn’t healthy to sleep only 3 hours so he convinces her to fall asleep for a few more hours

He spoils her a lot and brings her to cafes

Bruno is one of the last people she would expect to like her more than a friend due to the “bruno’s a mom” memes and he’s nice to everyone (almost everyone, excluding ememies), there’s no way he would like her more

Sure, he kisses the crown of her head and the back of her hand from time to time and they cook together

But they’re just good friends, right?

He frequently lectures her on being more careful and not being so reckless

Mista

They discuss weird stuff a lot

The combination of mc’s general knowledge of random things due to the internet and Mista’s bad timing when bringing up topics leads to interesting conversations

Like, your tongue never sits comfortably in your mouth, your skeleton is wet, are you inside your skeleton or is your skeleton inside you?

Mc is always in a constant state of worry when he’s on a mission because his bullets always end up in his own body something

The only reason he isn’t dead yet is because his dumb*ss aura surrounds him

Mc qualifies as a cute girl 11/10

He flirts with her casually and the pistols tell her his thought even when he doesn’t want them to but she never seems to notice

“You’ve been flirting with me?” “Have been for the last year, thanks for noticing.”

Mc gets Mista a gun holster after the events of Vento Aureo because he really shouldn’t be tucking his gun in his pants like that

If someone was really angry, they could lean over and shoot his d*ck off

La Squadra

I sorta debated whether la squadra should be a part of the harem or not but I think mostly no

That’s because I don’t really have an age range for them but Risotto’s like 28 and big age gaps are creepy. So, I guess for some of the la squadra members, it’s up to interpretation whether it’s romantic or platonic. I’m inclined towards platonic though

I’m not sure if I want to save Sorbet and Gelato yet

Mc, of course, goes along for missions as she’s ordered to

La squadra is so broke. Why doesn’t Diavolo pay them more? They literally kill people for their job

Mc doesn’t crash at their house very often but she stops by to hang out and drop off food

She buys them groceries when she notices their fridge is super empty. She doesn’t need them to pay her back (her paycheck is suprisingly big), but they should stop eating takeout all the time

She usually calls Risotto to ask if there’s anything specific they want

She’s rather fond of Pesci. They go fishing together when they have time

Illuso and mc are gossip buddies

Melone gets kink shamed during missions

Ghiaccio and mc have gone ice skating together before

I don’t really have anything else for the others... I’ll think about it

When Vento Aureo begins, mc is trying to save them though she isn’t directly working with them

La Unita Speciale

These are pretty random

Tizano and Squalo are gay, mc was there when they proposed to each other

Mc gets ordered to buy food when they have meetings though it’s pretty rare

When she does show up to drop off food, it’s a constant feeling of “let me leave quicker please” because Cioccolata is freaky

She thinks she runs into Doppio way too often when she’s doing missions

The only good thing about it is that Doppio is pretty nice when Diavolo isn’t kicking about. On one hand, Doppio=nice, on the other Doppio=Diavolo

Mc feeds Secco sugar cubes when Cioccolata isn’t looking

She would not trust Cioccolata to patch up any of her wounds, he’s likely to dissect her

Mc gets missions through calls and emails but sometimes Doppio’s around to tell her what they are

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